


Dragons In Our Midst

by fire_ash_rebirth



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dragon!Reid, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Mostly Fluff, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Reid has dragon heritage, Supernatural Elements, grab-bag of interconnected one-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 10:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_ash_rebirth/pseuds/fire_ash_rebirth
Summary: What happens when the BAU's favorite genius is descended from dragons?orReid is part dragon and the shenanigans that ensue





	1. Chapter 1

        In the stories, dragons always had hoards. Penelope Garcia remembered that much at least from the battered book of fairy tales she used to read as a child. So as she stared at Reid’s giant pile of mismatched socks the only thing she could think to ask was, “You hoard socks?”  
The BAU’s resident half-dragon scrambled to his feet, blushing, the pink tint reaching almost to the small horns protruding from his brown hair. “I, um, what?” he stammered, taken aback.

       “It’s fine if you do,” Garcia was quick to reassure him, seeing his embarrassment, “It’s a lovely collection.”

       “Thanks?” Reid muttered, though it sounded more like a question. He shuffled his feet, which were currently sporting a blue and white striped sock and a black sock with orange jack-o-lanterns on it. The sock collection Garcia was staring at was comprised of too many socks to count, piled on Reid’s closet floor, spilling out into his room. She had stopped by to check on him after a particularly difficult case, only to find him sprawled out on top of a pile of socks.

       “How many do you have?” She asked, trying to cut the awkward silence.

       “572” answering automatically, Reid looked like he’d rather just disappear. “Can you not tell the others about this?” he asked tentatively

       Garcia tilted her head inquisitively, “I mean, sure. But why?”

       Reid blushed harder. “Hoards are representative of status. The bigger and more valuable the hoard, the better. And I have a bunch of socks, which is about as low as you can get.”

       “Honey, they don’t care.” She patted his arm, “Nobody knows anything about that at the BAU.”

       “Still,” Reid shrugged, “can you not?”

       Garcia smiled, “Anything for my Boy Wonder.”

  
\-------------------------------

       Derek Morgan watched in amused confusion as Reid ran into yet another chair. All morning the young genius had been extraordinarily clumsy- even more so than usual. He had misjudged the location of his coffee cup and ended up pouring the scalding liquid all over his arm. This hadn’t been a major problem, as Reid’s skin was naturally thicker and more heat resistant thanks to the smattering of scales that spread from his upper back, across his shoulders, and down his arm. His pale shirt however, was definitely stained.

       Then, on his way back to his desk, Reid caught his hip on Morgan’s desk. “You alright, Pretty Boy?” Morgan had asked as Reid winced in pain.

       “Fine” the genius had muttered, shuffling off. But as he had made his way back to his desk, he caught his shoulder on a cabinet. Now, Reid was at his desk, staring glumly at the pile of paperwork that needed to be completed. Normally, the agent was able to zip through the busy work at record speeds, what with being to read at 20,000 words per minute and all. But today he simply stared at the same piece of paper for 15 minutes, squinting at it, tilting his head, and holding it up to the light. All the while, Morgan watched as Reid squirmed uncomfortably, scratching his arms.

       An hour or so later, Reid had completed a small stack of paperwork, but was going even slower than Morgan- which was saying something. Morgan poured a fresh cup of coffee and strolled over to Reid’s desk. Placing the cup on the desk, he leaned against the wall. “Something up?”, Morgan asked, glancing at the uncharacteristically small stack of finished paperwork.

       “No, I’m fine.” Reid responded, not lifting his head to look at the other agent.

       “Uh huh,” Morgan raised his eyebrows, leveling Reid with a bemused, if unbelieving, look, “and that’s why you’ve been running into things all morning and haven’t been able to sit still since you walked in?”

       “Morgan,” Reid still didn’t look at him, “I told you, I’m fine.”

       Morgan smirked, “If you say so. Well in that case I guess I’ll just take this back with me.” He picked the cup of coffee back up and moved as if to start walking away.

       “Noo…” the younger agent started, jerking his head up and making grabbing motions at the coffee. But as he did, Morgan caught a glimpse of his eyes, as well as the scales on his neck and face which were oddly pale. His eyes were cloudy and unfocused.

       Morgan stopped dead in his tracks, “Kid, what’s up with your eyes? And your face? Are you alright?”

       “I’m fine, really.” Reid protested, and when Morgan snorted in disbelief he continued, “It’s just that I’m in shed, so I can’t see really well.”

       “What?”

       “Many reptiles, including dragons have a brille, also called an ocular scale, that covers the eye. While it’s most common in reptiles and such without eyelids, I have one as well. And when the rest of my scales are in shed, it gets cloudy and hard to see.” Reid explained, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

       “Well why didn’t you tell us? Have you told Hotch?” Morgan asked.

       “I had to tell Hotch. It’s not safe for me to be out in the field when I can’t see very well.” the young dragon replied, “But I still need to do my job.”

       Morgan frowned, “You’ve been here all of about three hours. In that time you’ve run into more things than I can count and spilled coffee on yourself. Take the day off. I’ll tell Hotch and drive you home.”

       Reid balked, “But… the paperwork… I still need to…”

       “I’ll finish it,” Morgan cut him off, “consider it a repayment for all the times I slipped my paperwork into your pile.”

       Reid frowned, not wanting to give up but also acknowledging that resistance against Morgan was ultimately futile.

       “I could tell Garcia. I’m sure she’d be happy to fuss over you.”

       “Now that’s coercion. You’re a federal employee, you should be better than that.” Reid reprimanded weakly.

       “Yup, but it works. Now pack your bag Pretty Boy.”

\---------------------

       The case was supposed to be relatively cut-and-dry, as far as cases ever went: a serial and arsonist in Kansas City who had been targeting unoccupied structure for awhile but had recently escalated to buildings with more occupants. The plan was to come in, create a geographical profile in combination with the profile of the unsub, deliver it to the local police, catch the guy n, return to Quantico in a timely manner. But these things, Emily Prentiss mused, never did go according to plan.  
The initial introduction to the area and case had gone fairly well, and the team had only been met with minimal amounts of grumbling from the local police, who were expectedly unpleased with the Federal intervention on their case. But with the arsonist having crossed the state border into Kansas City, Missouri before returning to Kansas City, Kansas, it fell under the FBI’s jurisdiction. Reid and Morgan had headed out to take a look at the cite of the most recent fire, and the rest of the team had gone straight to the local police department.

       Despite initial grumblings, the Chief of Police had adapted quickly, showing them to a room and laying out everything they knew so far. Everything was running smoothly (for an arson/murder case) until Morgan and Reid returned with their findings. The now-whole team conferred, comparing their initial ideas and theories while the Chief looked on, occasionally making comments about locations or asking them questions about their process. Eventually, the Chief returned to her office, Morgan got on the phone with Garcia to run backgrounds on locals, and Reid started on the geographical profile, leaving the rest of the team to work on the profile. They were comparing the methods of fire starting when Prentiss first realized there was a problem.

       Reid was busy at work on the geographical profile, looking completely in his element surrounded by maps, sticky notes, and colored markers, his mouth moving slightly like he was muttering to himself. In his focused state, he had pushed up his sleeves to above the elbow, not thinking about his scales or the reaction they might evoke from the local police. Prentiss had opened her mouth to warn him when the Chief of Police walked in with three other officers. They didn’t notice at first, and Prentiss wasn’t all that surprised- people’s gazes were rarely drawn by the quiet Spencer Reid, especially when the commanding Morgan or the personable JJ were nearby. Prentiss didn’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet, as it wasn’t long before one of the officers decided to check on the BAU’s genius. And judging from the his very loud exclamation of surprise, Emily figured he hadn’t missed the reptilian aspects of Reid’s appearance.

       “What are you?” the officer spat, backing away quickly, his hand on his gun. “Some sort of freak?”

       “Smith? What is it?” the Chief demanded, her hand also moving towards her weapon. She wasn’t confused for long, as Reid had spun around when the officer reacted, his scales and hornes in full view of everyone in the room.

       Hotchner immediately stepped forward, hands out in a peaceful gesture, “Everyone calm down and do not shoot my agent.” He glanced back at Reid, “Are you alright, Reid?”

       Reid nodded in affirmation and with an apprehensive glance at him, the Chief of Police lowered her hand. “What is going on here, agent?” She directed her question to the rest of the team, not wanting to look at Reid.

       “If you’ll come with me please,” Hotchner ushered her into another room, “I’ll explain everything.”

       She complied, following him, but the rest of the officer’s weren’t as easily satisfied. “What are you?” the officer repeated, staring at Reid with faint revolution.

       Reid shuffled his feet, looking increasingly awkward and his uncomfortable stance did not go unnoticed to Prentiss. As the officer continued walking forward, his gait and body language excessively dominant, the younger agent stood his ground. Prentiss stepped between them, facing the local officer. “Well?” the officer demanded again, sneering, “What is he?”

       Prentiss lifted her chin to look the slightly taller officer in the eye. “Dr. Reid is a federal agent. If you have a problem with him or any of our team, you can take it up with your Chief. But this is our case and we still have a job to do.”

       The officer grumbled and seemed like he had more to say, but at that moment the door to the adjoining room swung open and Hotchner returned, followed by the Chief. He surveyed the room quietly, taking in Prentiss’ protective stance and the provocative officer. Face characteristically stoic, the team leader spoke, “Get back to work everyone, we still have an UnSub to find.”

       As everyone returned to their various tasks, Reid pulled Prentiss aside. “You didn’t have to do that. I can stand up for myself.”

       Prentiss smirked, “It wasn’t you I was worried about. I know you could run intellectual circles around him any day and we don’t need any more grudges between the FBI and the local law enforcement. Besides,” she winked, “it wouldn’t do for you to go setting them on fire- we still need them for this case.”

       Reid ducked his head, tugging his sleeves back down to cover his arms. “You do know I can’t actually breathe fire, right?”

       “Uh huh,” Prentiss raised a skeptical eyebrow, “that’s what you say…” she trailed off teasingly, the two friends heading back to rejoin the group.

  
\----------------------

  
       “What’s that?” A four year old Henry asked, perching on the back of a couch in the lounge area of the BAU. He had been combing Reid’s hair with his fingers as his godfather read aloud from a book of poetry.

       Reid paused, “What’s what Henry?”

       “These,” the child poked the small horns protruding from the top of Reid’s skull, “These bumps.”

       “Henry, it’s not nice to poke people.” JJ reprimanded, entering the room with a box of files. Setting them down on a table, she turned to look at Reid. “Is he ok? Should I take him with me?” She asked, the underlying question being Do you want to tell him?

       Reid smiled, putting down his book. “It’s alright, JJ. He’s fine.”

       “Alright then,” She nodded, and turned her attention to the files.

       “Henry, those are my horns. They’re attached to my head so please don’t pull them off.” The last sentence was in response to the four year old’s attempts to tug on the bony structures.

       Henry stopped pulling on them. “Sorry.” He mumbled. They sat in silence for a moment before the child resumend asking questions. “Why do you have horns? Mom doesn’t have horns.”

       “Well, I was born with them. Just like you have blond hair that you got from your mom, I have horns that I got from my mom.” Reid explained.

       “Ok.” Henry said, accepting his godfather’s explanation. He slumped forwards, resting his chin on top of the Reid’s head, his arms wrapping around the profiler’s neck in a hug. “They’re really pretty Uncle Spencer. Like a baby deer.”

       “Aw thanks Henry,” Reid smiled, hugging him back. “Now how about I show you a good way to mess with Morgan?”

       Henry giggled, “Are we going to put whipped cream on his head?”

       “Where did you get that idea?” Reid laughed as they walked out of the room. “No, I was thinking more like an air horn under his chair…”

\------------------

       Spencer Reid was trying not to reach out and grab the wind chime, he really was. It was made from different foreign coins- euros, Thai baht, Egyptian piasters, Brazilian centavos, and a few others he didn’t recognize. The coins spun in the breeze, reflecting the sun and catching Reid’s eye.

       “He might have entered through the back window. What do you think Reid?” Morgan asked, jolting Reid out of his transfixed state.

       “What?” Reid blinked, his mind completely blank for a moment before his brain caught up with what Morgan had asked. “Oh, maybe. But there are no signs of forced entry and it’s still locked.”

       Morgan frowned, tapping his pen against his leg as he thought. “All the other doors and windows are locked too, with no signs of tampering. Could the unsub have gone through an unlocked door and locked it behind him after he entered?”

       “I doubt it.” Reid shook his head, “Just look at the murders; everything about this is messy and unorganized. Why would he go through all the trouble to lock a door behind him and then…” He trailed off, the light bouncing off the wind chime snagging his attention once more. Reid stared, captivated by the way the coins caught the light. They were just so beautiful. They were so-

       Reid caught himself, forcing himself to not reach out and grab the coins. Dragging his attention back to the conversation, he looked back over at Morgan and the two police officers who had accompanied them to the crime scene, all of whom were staring at him with expressions of varying levels of confusion and concern.

       “Sorry. It just wouldn’t make sense for an unsub as disorganized as this to stop and lock the door behind him or take any of the forensic countermeasures we’re seeing.”  
One of the officers nodded, “We weren’t able to pull any prints off anything, and the murder weapon was wiped clean afterwards.”

       Morgan stopped tapping his pen, instead using it to point to the empty slot in the kitchen knife rack. “The knife was from the victim’s own kitchen- a weapon of opportunity. That indicates a more disorganized, impulsive kill. Someone who wouldn’t stop to wipe clean the knife afterwards.”

       “Do you think he maybe covered his tracks after he’d had time to calm down?” The other officer asked.

       “Maybe.” Reid interjected, pulling his gaze away from the wind chime once more, “Either that of there were two unsubs. A disorganized one who did the killings and a more level-headed one who cleaned up afterwards.”

       With that, they finished taking notes and headed back to the station to meet back up with the rest of the team. As they pulled to a stop at a red light, Morgan turned to Reid, “Hey man, are you ok?”

       “Yeah, fine. Why?” Reid responded, still looking out the window. The light turned to green and they continued forwards.

       “You were acting a little weird back there, kept zoning out or something. Are you sure you’re alright?”

       Reid shrugged, “I’m fine, Morgan. I was just distracted by the wind chime.”

       “The wind chime?”

       “The one in front of the window, with all the coins.”

       Morgan’s eyebrows bunched together, and the agent glanced over at his friend, “I mean that’s cool, but why were you so distracted by it? That’s not like you.”  
Reid grimaced, running his fingers through his hair self-consciously. “It actually is, I’m just usually better at hiding it.” He paused, contemplating whether or not to continue. “It was very… shiny.”

       “What?” Morgan demanded, looking as confused as ever. “What does that have to-”

       “Morgan.” Reid cut him off, “Think. I am part dragon. In all the stories, all the books and movies, what are dragons motivated by?”

       “Murder?” was the guess, to which Reid rolled his eyes. A look of understanding crossed Morgan’s face, “Oh, gold!” he exclaimed. “Really?”

       Reid nodded awkwardly, “I mean I’m not as bad as some. It’s not like I have a pile of stolen gold under my bed or anything, it’s just sometimes something particularly shiny will catch my eye.” He shrugged, “I don’t really know why.” They sat in silence for a minute before Reid continued, “It was more of a problem when I was younger. I ended up spending most of my off time in college at casinos, at least once I looked old enough to sneak in.”

       Morgan laughed, “The casinos you got kicked out of?”

       “Well, between all the lights, the colors and the prospect of getting a lot of money quickly, it was hard to stay away. Besides,” he smirked, “once I learned how to play, and the math behind it, I was pretty good at it.”

       “Uh huh.” Morgan nodded, still laughing, “Well just stay away from my watch and my wallet and we’ll be fine.”

       Reid snorted, “Your stuff is safe. It’s really Garcia I have the most trouble with; she tends to surround herself with lots of very glittery, very colorful things.”

       “Hold up.” The agent squinted at the half-dragon in accusation, “Those were Garcia’s sunglasses I saw you wearing the other day!”

       By the time the two agents rejoined their team, they were both trying their best to suppress their laughter. From the mildly confused looks of their teammates, they were not very successful.

\-----------

       Spencer’s mom had always claimed that they were dragons. When he was much younger he took to this idea with enthusiasm, jumping off the bed as hard as he could, hoping he would fly. While this resulted in several bruises, scrapes, and broken vases, he continued, hoping that this time he would fly. His mom watched, amused, and swept up the broken pieces.

       When Spencer was older, he started realizing that in the stories the dragons were always evil, kidnapping people and getting killed by noble “heroes”. He asked his mom one day if that meant that they were evil. They were curled up on the couch, and she was reading to him from one of her many books (He would later realize that if every dragon had a hoard, hers was definitely of books). She smiled sadly, smoothing down his hair, feeling the tiny bumps that were his horns just starting to come in.  
She explained that the people who wrote the stories were the ones who survived, and if they had killed a dragon and lived to tell about it, then when they would tell the story they’d tell it so that they were the good guys. “People, even dragons, are only good or bad depending on their actions. There are good people and bad dragons just as there are bad people and good dragons. It’s up to you to determine which you’ll be.”

       He continued to excel in school, and besides the expected amount of bullying, he was doing well. Until the goal post incident. It was inevitable, really, that if they were going to strip him naked and tie him to a post, they would see the scales, his horns. Spencer’s physical abnormalities only heightened their aggression, more proof that he was a “freak”. They never told anyone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t a little afraid, and they took that all out on Spencer, who tried his best to tell himself that just because he was different, just because the dragons in the stories were evil and hated, he didn’t have to be. Still, he nearly cried with relief when he left that school.  
Eventually, her schizophrenia got worse and her ramblings about dragons were dismissed as delusions. Spencer never corrected them, realizing that if they didn’t believe him they’d think he was deluded as well, and if they did believe him who knows what they’d do. So when he listened intently whenever she mentioned their heritage, nodded when the nurses and psychologists grouped it in with her other delusions, and kept his mouth shut.

       When Spencer left for college, he only packed long sleeves to hide the scales that were becoming ever more visible and left his hair long enough to cover the horns which thankfully never got very big. While he was there, he studied, kept his head down, and let everyone assume that any oddities about him, any quirks in his behavior were just part of being a child prodigy. He had been planning to go into research, to work on developing a cure for schizophrenia like he had dreamed, but then he sat in on a presentation by the BAU about profiling and he remembered his childhood fear of being slain as a monster with the world looking on and declaring it a noble deed. The BAU, Spencer realized, was a way that he could catch the monsters, not the other way around.


	2. Chapter 2

      “Reid, what are you doing?” Morgan started in mild confusion at Reid, who was sitting under a desk with a bag of ice pressed against his neck. They were on a case in Phoenix, Arizona investigating a string of murders where the bodies of the victims were left posed on park benches all around the city. The early July weather was terrible, for sure, but Morgan wasn’t sure it was ‘hide under a desk in an air conditioned building with a bag of ice’ terrible.

      They had just returned from visiting the latest crime scene- a man laying down on a park bench thought to be asleep by passersby until one tried to check on him only to realize that he was dead. Reid had mostly stayed in the shade, and had disappeared with the files as soon as they made it back to the building. After awhile, Morgan had gotten concerned and went to check on him, leading to the situation they were now in- with Reid scrunched awkwardly under a desk with his face as close to the air conditioning vent as possible and a bag of ice held under his jaw by his wrists.

      “It’s too hot.” Reid complained.

      “Yeah, it is.” Morgan agreed, crossing his arms, “But not hellishly so. Are you alright?”

      The younger agent sighed, “I’ll be fine, just give me a minuet. I have ice at the major pulse points, and since the blood vessels are closer to the skin there, I should cool down faster.”

      “Or you could wear a short sleeved shirt instead of a long button down like you have on.”

      Reid peered up at him, “Yeah, because having my arms bare while we worked with local law enforcement worked so well last time.”

      Morgan thought back to the previous incident with the Kansas City arson case, “I see your point. But this isn’t going to work if you have to spend half an hour cooling down after every time you go outside. We need you on the case.”

      “I know.” Reid griped, “but I also don’t want to pass out from heat exhaustion.”

      “What’s up with that? It’s hot, but not passing-out hot.” Morgan bent down so that he was level with Reid and lowered his voice, “Is this a dragon thing?”

      “Sort of. At most temperatures, I’m fine, but I don’t do great with extremes- more so with heat than cold. Because my body’s a weird mix between endothermic and ectothermic, I retain a lot of heat with no great way to get rid of it quickly.”

      “Why didn’t you say anything?”

      “Well it’s not usually a problem! We don’t have that many cases in the southwest in the summer, which is really the only situation where it would be that bad.” Reid explained.

      Morgan laughed mirthlessly, “How did you even pass medical examinations to get into the FBI in the first place?”

      Reid shrugged, unfolding out from under the desk, “It’s not like they had a lot of background information on my ‘condition’ which I originally said was just a skin condition similar to Ichthyosis Vulgaris. Some stuff I didn’t know about and most I didn’t think would impact anything. They had already waived a bunch of other physical requirements, so I guess they just kind of went with it…” he trailed off as Morgan laughed, claping a hand on his shoulder.

      “What are we going to do with you, kid?”

\------------------------

      On their days off, everyone on the team has a go-to. They have to, with the nature of their jobs there needs to be something that takes their mind off the darkness they see everyday. They need something besides the murder, the blood, the hate and the suffering of innocent lives that seem to linger with them. For all the evil they see, they try to have something good to balance it out.

      Garcia surrounds herself with brightness in her office; in her home even more so. She tries new recipes, she decorates, she tries to bring a little light into the world and spread it to those she loves. Morgan focuses on rebuilding things, giving back to the world. He restores old houses, removing what is broken and unkempt, replacing it with something beautiful and whole.

      Hotch spends time with Jack, treasuring the moments and watching his son grow up. He wishes he could see him more, but the time he does have is priceless. JJ spends her time with her family, loving them fiercely and never planning on stopping. She knows how easily she could lose them- she’s around people who’ve lost their loved ones without warning every time they’re on a case- but she has them for now, and that’s going to have to be enough.

      Rossi sits down to write his latest book, incorporating elements of the cases they’ve solved. He isn’t putting them out of their mind for the moment like the rest of the team, but this time he’s the author, and he can make sure there’s a happy ending. Prentiss finds things to do: going to bars, playing with her cat, anything to distract herself. She knows it’s not the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but it works.

      Reid starts going to a local park, sitting on a bench to read. Occasionally he’ll join in on a chess game with some of the kids who gather there to play, giving advise when it’s needed and enjoying a game well played when it’s not. He meets the other kids too, the ones who go to the park to work on homework, or to read like him.  
As he goes there more often he starts to get to know the kids better; going from light, meaningless conversation and banter over a chess board to getting to know the kids interests, personalities, hopes, and dreams. He didn’t realize the extent to which he had grown to care about the kids until one day when he turned from a conversation with Elise about where to find good sources for her upcoming debate on the moral duty of the United States’ government in mitigating international conflicts to say goodbye to Bradon, wishing him luck in his chess tournament. The whole scene made him stop for a moment as he realized that he had somehow become an older brother figure to this eclectic group of kids who sought out the park as a refuge, just as he had done with the library when he was young.

      With his sporadic schedule, Reid will be out of state for days at a time only to then show up with his leg in a cast or a gash on his face and he knows the kids are probably curious, but to their credit they’ve never outright asked what he did for a living. He didn’t initially mean to keep it a secret, but for a while it never came up in conversation, and by the time it did, everyone had a different theory and Reid was having too much fun with their guessing game to ruin the mystery. The current theories ranged from researcher to spy, from inventor to writer, and he had to laugh as the guesses got more and more outlandish.

      Nobody complained though (or at least not much) when he didn’t tell them, as they had all reached a tentative, unspoken agreement in which nobody poked too deeply into anyone else’s life unless the person brought it up first. Reid didn’t pry into any of the kids’ backgrounds or home lives, only reminding them that he was there if they wanted to talk and providing them with contacts and advice whenever they needed it. In turn, the kids didn’t question why he always wore long sleeves and a hat, or balk at any odd behavioral quirks, instead recommending stores they knew that sold lightweight long sleeve shirts for when it got hot.

      If he had the whole day off, Reid would settle on a bench in the shade to read. He would grab coffee and lunch from the cafe down the street, sometimes stop by the used book store next door before returning to the park. When school got out, the kids would show up at varying times depending on their method of transportation and after school activities. Some would set to work on assignments, spreading out their textbooks and notebooks on the picnic benches. Others lay under the trees, listening to music or taking a nap. Others set up their chess boards and timers, some playing against themself, some pairing up, and some crowding around Reid to challenge him to a match.  
For as much as he cared for the kids, he had no intention of revealing to them anything pertaining to his reptilian nature. Initially he hid it because that was his default with other people; unless there’s a reason they need to know, it’s better if they don’t. Then as time went on, he rationalized that there was no need to tell them, that it wasn’t really important. Whether this was true or if it was just an excuse for not wanting his abnormalities to ruin these new relationships doesn’t matter, as secrets can accidentally be revealed at the drop of a hat (or in this case, at a hat blowing off in the wind).

      There are things outside of our control, and wind was the one that proved to be Reid’s undoing. All it took was a very windy day and an unsecured hat for said cover up to be blown away, the wind flattening his hair and revealing the small horns to any and all onlookers. But in contrast to the disgust and suspicion he had been met with previously, the kids reacted as any kids will when there’s something interesting and new- with excitement and lots of questions. As questions were asked and answered, several of the younger kids grinned with excitement at the prospect of hair to braid and horns to decorate. When Reid headed home at the end of the day he had a new hat (gifted to him by a sixth grader named Alex) which covered horns lovingly adorned with stickers, hair ties, and even a small bow.

\-----------------

      When Reid had been taken captive by Tobias Hankel and his alternate personalities, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his scales and horns were discovered. And once they were… well Reid had no doubts as to how a religious fanatic who raved about the devil’s work would react to his captive- who he had already accused of working for the devil- having horns. Thankfully the cabin was dark and Tobias (or rather Raphiel) hadn’t seemed to have noticed yet and Reid was wearing long sleeves as usual, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before his captor saw his horns.

      Raphael had come and gone, seemingly satisfied for the moment in “God’s will” after the short round of Russian Roulette failed to kill him. The other personality insisted that he confess his sins, and when Reid refused, he took to lashing the bottom of the agent’s feet with his belt. Eventually the man grew frustrated with Reid’s lack of a confession and left, leaving Reid hissing with pain but thankful for the man’s absence.

      Tobias was the one who returned, identifying the previous man to be his father and injecting Reid with dilaudid, claiming that it would help. When Reid awoke from his drug-induced stupor, it was to Tobias’ father grabbing him by the hair. There was revulsion in his eyes and he regarded Reid with a look of disgust and hatred, demanding that he confess to his sins.

      When Reid once again refused, claiming that he hadn’t done anything wrong, the man sneered, “You lie. I see what you are now, demon. ‘You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for his is a liar and the father of lies.’ You lie, just as your father lies. My son claims that God sent you to him for a reason, now I see that He has delivered you and your followers into our hands so that His work may be done through us.” With that, he shoved Reid in front of the camera, forcing him to choose who dies.

      After Reid woke once more from his drugged delirium and Garcia sent out the virus warning to the masses, Tobias’ father became more and more enraged, accusing him of trying to silence his ‘message’. Reid denied any knowledge of what his team was doing, but his captor was far beyond rational thought. “You lie!” he exclaimed, turning on the camera. “Confess your sins!” Reid’s captor demanded, backhanding him when he refused and throwing him to the ground where Reid’s body seized, cutting off his air supply and sending him into darkness.

      The first sensations to be restored to Reid’s conscious awareness was the smell of burning fish guts and Raphael's exclamation, “You came back to life.” Despite Reid’s protests, he continued, “You came back so that we may see vengeance served to you and your followers. ‘And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent who is called the devil and satan, the deceiver of the whole world- he was thrown down to the earth and his angels were thrown down with him.’ Your team must die first. Choose one.”

      “No.”

      Raphiel pointed the gun at him, spinning the barrel. He pulled the trigger. Click. “Choose, demon.” He demanded, and they continued the pattern until Reid ultimately relented, using the opportunity to pass his message about the location along to the team; the message that ultimately led to his being found.

      Eventually, the wounds healed. It took a while longer, but eventually so too did the dilaudid addiction. But even time, which is said to heal all wounds, never took away the deep rooted feeling of otherness- that he was some sort of monster to be reviled and hated- that had started when he was young and had only grown throughout the years, cemented whenever someone like Tobias and his alters saw his abnormalities and named them of the devil. The feelings would ebb for a while when he was surrounded by people who loved him, who didn’t judge him for the things he couldn’t control, but those periods of time would ultimately end with someone new to call him evil.

\--------------

      It just had to be a farm. Reid wondered why in the name of all that was good in this world did so many of their cases lead them to a farm in the middle of nowhere. He knew the logical answer to the question- many of the Unsubs they tracked needed a remote, secure location where they could carry out their nefarious actions without being bothered, and a farm fit that bill to a T. Knowing the “logical” answer, however, never changed Reid’s frustration with pulling up to sprawling hills, wire fences, the distinct odor of animal manure, and most importantly way too many animals that all seemed out to freak out the moment he got within smelling distance.

      Prey animals would turn tail and get away from him as fast as possible, disregarding anything in their path. Once, Reid’s hat had been blown off in the wind only to be picked up by a curious heard of goats. When he chased after them to retrieve it, they ran to the other side of the field, scattering once more when Reid got close. For fifteen minutes, he tried to approach them calmly and retrieve his hat- but to no avail. And for fifteen minutes, Morgan stood along the side of the fence and laughed, recording Reid’s futile attempts on his phone to show Garcia later (that is until he almost got trampled by the herd as they ran straight at him to get away from a disgruntled Reid).

      Predators tended to get defensive and territorial, snapping at him when they felt he’d encroached on their “territory”. The first time he stopped by Prentiss’ apartment, Sergio had hissed at him from the corner and when he finally left, his pant legs were clawed to shreds. It took months before Clooney had allowed Reid into Morgan’s house without going berserk- and he still followed Reid everywhere with his hackles raised for a while after that. By now, he just stayed in whatever room Reid was in, watching him with distrustful eyes. The only animals that didn’t go crazy when he was near were fish and reptiles. The fish acted like, well fish, and he hadn’t been around enough reptiles to make a solid blanket statement about their behavior.

      So when their latest serial abduction/murder case led them to a farm in Central Kentucky, Reid had to bite back a curse. Sure enough, when they split up to search the farm, any and all herd animals stayed as far away from the younger agent as possible and when they entered the barn, two terrier looking dogs immediately raced towards them, exposing the kidnapped siblings in one of the stalls. As Reid tried to distance himself from the dogs while still watching the rest of the team’s back, Hotch and Rossi arrested the Unsub who had come running when he heard the dogs wild barking. On the ride back to the station, Reid had to smile: While he wasn’t sure weather the “Reid Effect” stemmed from his part dragon status or just from being Reid, if animals were going to react strangely to him then at least he could use it to his advantage.

\---------------

      “How many?” Reid looked over at Morgan, who was staring at him with one eyebrow raised.

      “How many what?” the young genius asked, his face shaped into the perfect ‘who me? I didn’t do anything’ look.

      The other agent snorted, the implied message clear- You aren’t fooling anyone. You know exactly what I’m talking about. “How many cups of coffee have you had today?”

      Reid glanced down at the mug he had just set down on his desk and picked it up, curling his hand around it protectively. The draconic agent thought back on the events of the morning this far, trying to count the number of coffees he had drank (and what it said about him that in the few hours he had been awake he had consumed enough coffee that it required mental effort to remember them all, well Reid decided not to think about it). “This makes three, I think.” He smiled innocently.

      “You think, Mr. Eidetic Memory?” Morgan laughed, “Come on, how many?”

      Reid ducked his head, avoiding eye contact.“Seven” he watched Morgan out of the corner of his eye and smiled slightly, awaiting what he expected to be an interesting reaction to say the least.

      Morgan certainly did not disappoint. Later, Reid would describe his expression as looking like someone watching small furry animals getting shot out of an air cannon into a foam pit by an over enthusiastic third grader- surprised, slightly confused, concerned, and contemplating weather or not to intervene for the sake of everyone involved. But for the moment he simple enjoyed watching Morgan’s face try to decide which emotion it wanted to express the most. Eventually, the agent decided on concerned, “And when was the last time you ate?”

      This question too required Reid to think back over the past few days (proving that okay, maybe he didn’t have the best self-care habits). “I had a sandwich for dinner two days ago.” He decided, even though that was a bit of a stretch- he had eaten half of it and then forgotten it on the coffee table when he got sidetracked looking into a connection between 15th and 16th century Welsh poetry and the surviving records of folklore.

      “Reid!” Morgan exclaimed, taken slightly aback- apparently that was not the answer he was looking for.

      “What did Reid do?” Garcia asked, startling the both of them as neither had noticed her approach.

      “Baby girl, Reid hasn’t eaten in two days and has drank seven cups of coffee just this morning.”

      “Are you alright?” Garcia tilted her head, giving Reid a two second examination, staring at him like the state of his well being would be telegraphed to her in bright neon letters. “People aren’t supposed to drink more than like four cups of coffee.”

      “It’s not that bad.” Reid protested, “The four cups rule is really more of a loose guideline for caffeine consumption, and with the amount of milk and sugar I put in my coffee there’s less caffeine per cup.”

      “Okay, but you haven't eaten?” Garcia was now in what Reid labeled as Mother Hen Overload Mode.

      “Still not that big of a deal. I have a really slow metabolism and can go a few days without getting hungry.”

      The technical analyst frowned and grabbed Reid’s arm, her brightly colored fingernails digging into his arm, “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” When Reid opened his mouth to likely make more protests she held up a finger, “I don’t care if it’s some dragon magic thing-”

      “It’s not magic. Most larger reptiles don’t eat very often. Alligators stop eating altogether in the winter.” He interjected, trying to pull away from her grasp.

      She leveled a glare at him, which was normally about as intimidating as angry bunny rabbit but this time seemed more on the level of the killer rabbit from Monty Python and The Holy Grail. “I don’t care if you can. You are still mostly human and you need to eat. I have muffins in my office.”

      As she marched him down the hall, Reid looked back over his shoulder at Morgan, who was watching the whole proceeding with amusement. “Save me!”

      “Not a chance, pretty boy.” Morgan smirked, “You brought this on yourself.”

\---------------

      That Morgan was bored was not in and of itself surprising- he was often bored, despite the stack of paperwork on his desk that still needed to be completed. Before, when his desk was next to everyone else’s, he could entertain himself by trading banter with Prentiss, shooting rubber bands at passing agents, or pester Reid. Now he had his own office, which was great, don’t get him wrong, but for as much as Morgan liked the peace and quiet, it sometimes seemed a little too.. well, quiet and peaceful. One can only amuse themselves by bouncing a tennis ball off the opposite wall before it inevitably comes back to smack them in the face.

      Rubbing his forehead, Morgan decided to refill his coffee; the trek to the lower floor would provide him an opportunity to stretch his legs and clear his head so that he could get back to work (actually, no. Who was he kidding, it would give him a chance to get distracted by something so he would have an excuse not to sit down at his desk and actually do anything). Sure enough, when he saw Reid working at his desk and the odds and ends that decorated the surface, an idea sprang forth from the remnants of a half-remembered previous conversation about shiny objects and stolen sunglasses. Morgan smiled; this was going to be fun.

~~~

      To say that Reid was happy would be a bit of a stretch; he had missed the bus that morning, resulting in a half an hour wait for the next one. In the rain. Needless to say, when he finally got to work, he was literally dripping. On top of that, he was pretty sure Prentiss was sneaking her files into his stack, because even though he had been working steadily for three hours, the pile of paperwork never seemed to get any smaller. However, despite all of this, Reid was relatively content; he’d had an extra sweater in his bag to change into, his other clothes had mostly dried out, he had coffee with extra sugar and a new hazelnut creamer, and Prentiss was bound to run out of paperwork eventually.

      He was just putting the finishing touches on a case report when something flashed from out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, there wasn’t anything there besides the normal pens and paperweights scattered across his already cluttered desk. With a mental approximation of a vague shrug, Reid turned back to his work.

      Only a few minutes later, a similar flash drew his attention, disappearing when he turned to look in much the same way as before. This pattern continued for some time, and eventually Reid decided to just ignore it as best he could (though he couldn’t help the initial instinctual reaction to turn towards the bright glint). But for as much as Reid attempted to ignore it altogether, he got more and more fed up with the distraction as time dragged on. Finally, fed up with a near-constant distraction with no clear source, Reid waited until the flash appeared again, then glanced around the room and the floor above for anything that might be causing it. Sure enough, when the light flashed again, he noticed a corresponding movement on the upper floor. When he realized what it was, there was only one coherent thought left in his mind: Morgan is going down.

~~~

      Prentiss was working diligently on her files like the professional Federal Agent that she was (and was most definitely not playing angry birds on her phone, what are you talking about). She was contemplating whether or not to slip another file into Reid’s pile when she looked over to notice said genius twitching sporadically. Intrigued, (but not enough to, you know, actually do anything) she settled into observe the events that played out. Reid was working at his desk as per usual, but every so often his head would snap to the side ever so slightly before he turned back once more like he was catching himself looking at something

      After awhile, the twitching became more frequent and it was then that Prentiss saw what had been distracting Reid; Morgan stook on the floor above and was reflecting a beam of light onto Reid’s desk via a mirror, where it refracted through a prism--like paperweight, sending a glitter flash of light across his desk. Around the same time that Prentiss realized this, the half-dragon seemed to come to a similar conclusion, and snatched the prism off his desk with what sounded like a low growl. Then, stuffing it into his pocket, Reid proceeded to storm up the stairs and chase Morgan around the upper floor as Prentiss watched on, grinning to herself.

      Reid had almost managed to pin Morgan when Hotch’s door opened with an ominous creak, and the team leader appeared in the doorway; the look on his face was enough to make both agents freeze. Hotch commanded them into his office with a stern expression and a voice neither dared to disobey, and Prentiss turned back to her files like the professional agent she was (thought as soon as she turned around, who’s to say she didn’t immediately text a certain Media Liaison and Computer Analyst with instructions to pull the security feed and watch what had happened).


	3. Chapter 3

       The team was panicking. They had been called in on a serial child abduction case with four confirmed deaths and zero leads. There were no consistencies between abductions sites or methods, and none of the children had survived for more than two days after being abduction. Another child had gone missing hours after their arrival in town and less than three hours later, Reid had disappeared on his way back from interviewing one of the families.

       While it was clear that the unsub had little experience controlling an adult, he had still managed to inflict a sizable wound on Reid if the sickening pool of blood on the sidewalk was any indicator. Security cameras in the area were in dire need of updating- something Garcia would have joked about if she wasn’t so busy trying not to break down- so the video of the abduction was blurry at best and the most they could conclude was that there was a large, light colored van and that the unsub was average height, dark hair, and white. Garcia poured all of her energy and focus into the task of searching, identifying, and narrowing down potential suspects with the knowledge that she would freak out later: right now she needed to find Reid.

       Back at the station, Hotch’s stoic mask was in danger of breaking. He alternated between offering ways for Garcia to narrow down her search and trying to scrape together any semblance of a profile with the others, knowing that if he stopped or even slowed down, he wouldn’t be able to keep going. Reid was the youngest out of all of them, and had been through so much already. Now that he was in danger once more, Hotch couldn’t help but fear for the worst- the last time he had been captured he died. What more would happen before they could get to him?

       Morgan shared Hotch’s unspoken worries, and he could barely keep his mind from straying into the “what-ifs”. Despite his desperate attempts to organize his thoughts enough to piece together a profile, a plan, anything, his mind strayed, pulling up memories of the countless horrific acts he had seen on the job, substituting his surrogate younger brother for each of the victims. But even as his thoughts went in seven different directions, none of them good, there was one common thread- the resolve to do whatever needed to be done to bring Reid back in one piece.

       It seemed that the rest of the team shared those sentiments, as JJ shoved aside her infringing memories of her own abduction and torture at the hands of Askari to put on a calm and professional face to speak to the press. Blake was reviewing the last text Reid had sent regarding the interview, searching for any clues regarding the case or what happened to him. Rossi and Morgan conferred at the board, shooting back and forth ideas barely fast enough to comprehend them as Hotch and Garcia attempted to narrow down the dozens of people who fit their meager profile. They had few leads, little time, and a missing agent who would be soon facing the repercussions as his captor discovered his inhuman traits.

\-------

       It was the kind of dark where upon opening your eyes you have to blink a few times to make sure your eyes aren’t still closed. The air was heavy and cool against his skin, and if Reid was in a more coherent, more human mindset, he would probably be thinking about how if he was a mushroom he would be doing just fine. However, Reid was neither a mushroom or thinking rationally, so he was not “just fine” or remembering relevant information that would aid his escape from wherever he was currently being held captive.

       Instead, pain, fear, and blood loss had Reid half out of his mind. He strained against his bindings to no avail, the rope only digging into his wrists and rubbing them raw. The room where he was held was quiet, save for his own heavy breathing and the steady drip of liquid on the floor. When Reid inhaled, every breath was accompanied by the overwhelming smell of blood. Beneath the coppery smell of his own blood, there was the musty scent of fungus and mildew. He might have sat there for minutes, hours, or days for all he knew; his usual impeccable sense of time was thrown completely out the window. Time passed in a haze of drifting in and out of consciousness, the result of exhaustion and blood loss.

       It wasn’t until a new sound startled him awake that he realized he wasn’t alone. A door creaked open and heavy steps pounded into the room. Reid froze. His captor walked to the opposite side of the room and dropped something with a thud. With each step the unsub took bringing him closer to Reid, the half-dragon’s heart pounded in his chest so loud he swore the unsub could hear it. When the unsub reached Reid, he paused, clicking on a dim flashlight.

       “Damn Feds,” the man snarled, looking him over. When his eyes landed on Reid’s exposed arms, the faint light from the dying flashlight glinting off the scales, he stepped back warily. A low growl started to build in Reid’s throat.

       “The hell is going on?” the unsub demanded, his voice betraying hints of fear alongside the previous anger.

       Reid bared his teeth in response. If he had been thinking coherently, he wouldn’t have provoked the unsub like that, as it would only escalate the violence, but at the moment panic and self preservation were running rampant in his mind and he reacted much like any injured, cornered animal- by lashing out. In a knee-jerk sequence of events too fast to follow, Reid lunged forward against his bonds, hissing sharply in pain and anger. The unsub startled backwards, fumbling in the dim light. When he recovered his footing, he didn’t waste any time before hitting back, Reid falling back under the unsubs fists.

       When the unsub finally left, the clang of the deadbolt against the metal door resounding through the room, Reid lay curled on the ground, still half anticipating blows that never arrived. He stayed there for a while, not moving, barely breathing, waiting for the panic to subside.

       Faintly, he recognized sounds of movement from the other side of the room where the unsub had dropped something. A muffled cry sounded, something too familiar to Reid’s ears, the sound of a child in pain who knew all too well what would happen if they made noise. Still running on base instincts, the need to protect whoever was here with him rekindled his efforts to escape his bonds. Using his teeth, Reid started to gnaw on the ropes binding his hands, the coarse fibers slashing the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood. His efforts were rewarded when he wore down the rope enough to twist his hands free and from there he untied his feet.

       Reid rushed across the room, searching for whoever was there. Unable to see much of anything still, he almost tripped over the young boy curled up on the floor. But as soon as Reid touched the boy’s arm he flinched away. The half dragon made a shushing sound, still not thinking clearly enough for coherent speech. When the boy realized that Reid wasn’t going to hurt him, he curled against the agent’s side, using Reid as a shield between the door and himself. Laying like that they waited, waiting for their bleeding to stop, for sleep to come, for a miracle to happen.

       When their miracle did happen, neither one realized it. The door flew open, smashing against the wall with a clang. A blinding light flooded the room, and to Reid’s dark adjusted vision, it was like needles being shoved into his eyes. Startled, unable to see, and fearing the worst, Reid growled in warning, shielding the boy as best he could, ready to attack whatever was coming.

       With blood stained teeth bared and wild, inhuman eyes reflecting the light from the flashlight, Reid looked more dangerous than Morgan had ever seen before. Relieved to see Reid alive, he stepped forward only to be knocked back onto the floor. Reid curled up like a spring and shot forward, slamming into Morgan’s chest and sending him falling back. The flashlight dropped to the ground, sending the beam of light dancing on the walls.

       Morgan froze with Reid on top of him, elbow pressed into neck and knee to stomach. Realizing that Reid neither recognized him nor was thinking clearly, Morgan forced himself to stay limp as he struggled to breathe evenly with the kid’s bony elbow effectively crushing his windpipe. When it was clear that Morgan was no longer a threat, Reid let up the pressure on his throat and stomach. Movement behind Reid caught Morgan’s eye, but when he sat up slightly to better see it, Reid was back on him in an instant.  
Morgan resigned himself to waiting it out, praying to whoever would listen that the rest of the team wouldn’t come barging in, something that would only spook Reid more. There was movement again, but this time Morgan simply waited. And sure enough, a childish face peeked out from behind his protector- the boy whose abduction preceded their team’s arrival on the case.

       The three of them didn’t move for a few minutes, Reid pinning Morgan to the ground, Morgan doing his best to stay still, and the boy hiding behind Reid. Slowly, ever so slowly, Reid started to relax, his eyes clearing, his face showing more and more recognition and less raw fear and anger. He swayed slightly and Morgan recognized the action for what it was moments before Reid collapsed right on top of him.

       With the team’s faint footsteps growing louder, Morgan rolled out from under Reid’s now unconscious body, checking him over for vitals and wounds. “We need a medic in here!” He called out, and it was only after watching Reid carried into the back of the ambulance that he let himself breathe a sigh of relief- they had found him.

\-------------

       At the rate Morgan was pacing, JJ was sure they’d have to repay the hospital in damages for a hole worn in the floor. When they had first checked Reid and the boy into the hospital, they weren’t overly worried. Neither had any major injuries that the team could see, and while Reid was passed out when they loaded him onto the ambulance, he had been conscious earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly thinking strait. But with every passing minute, the team grew more and more worried. It had been two and a half hours with no word as to how either of them were doing.

       Morgan paced up and down the hallway, his focus snapping to the door every time it opened, wishing someone would tell him something. Hotch was on the phone with someone- JJ wasn’t sure exactly who- informing them of the situation, what was happening with the unsub, and where they were. Blake was thumbing through the magazines on the waiting room table, flipping pages too fast to be reading anything with the glassy eyed look of one trying desperately to distract themselves from sinking into their thoughts. JJ was watching her teammates, idly wondering if she could convince Hotch to strong arm the doctors into telling them what was going on.

       At some point, Garcia arrived with hot coffee and fierce hugs. After distributing her gifts, she pulled JJ aside. “Is Reid going to be alright?” she asked.

       JJ grimaced, “We don’t know, they haven’t told us anything yet.”

       Garcia shook her head, “I know, but what I mean is do the doctors know?” At JJ’s blank stare, the technical analyst huffed and gestured to her arms, “You know, do they know about the thing?”

       Finally understanding what her friend was talking about, she glanced over her shoulder at Hotch, who was still on the phone. “Sort of. We had to tell them about the horns and scales- they’d have figured that out anyway- and they have his medical files, but most everything has a medicalish explanation.”

       When Garcia’s worried expression didn’t budge, JJ laid a hand on her shoulder, “This isn’t Reid’s biggest concern right now, and he’s been to the hospital before. We’ve never had any big problems with hospitals and it’s unlikely they would start now.”

       The two sat in silence for a moment, but eventually, unwilling to sit patiently, they proposed JJ’s doctor interrogation idea to Hotch who- unsurprisingly- frowned at them sharply and refused. Deciding to take matters into their own hands, they had backed a file toting intern into a corner, demanding answers, when the door opened and a lab coat-wearing, answer-laden bearer of information stepped through.

       She scanned the room with an unreadable expression. “Are you here with Brian Turing?”

       It took JJ a moment to recognize the name as the other victim who had been recovered along with Reid. Hotch had already stood up, “Yes. How is he doing?”

       “He was dehydrated and scraped up, but there were no major injuries.” At her words, the team let out a collective sigh of relief, but their worry for Reid never lessened.

       “What about Reid? How is he?” Morgan demanded, “Can we see him?”

       “He’s just out of surgery. There was an earlier altercation, but he’s sedated. You can see him when he wakes up.” JJ felt her heart skip a beat. An altercation?

       Morgan was similarly confused, “What do you mean, an altercation?”

       “He attacked one of the nurses.” The pager on her coat beeped, and she turned back to the door, completely ignoring the collective look of shock and worry on the team’s faces. “You will be informed when he wakes up.”

\------------------

       Reid had forgotten how much he hated hospitals. He woke up in an uncomfortable gown thing, strapped to a metal bed, with the overpowering smell of antiseptics and lemon scented cleaner and the incessant beeping of various machines. For a moment he allowed himself to lay still and stew in his dislike of his surroundings before the realization that he couldn’t remember why he was in the hospital set in.

       For once, his usually perfect eididic memory was at a loss. Thinking back, he remembered leaving the family’s house, driving, and then nothing. His elevated heartbeat made the monitors beep all the more, alerting one of the passing nurses to his newfound consciousness. She asked him how he was, and brought him up to date on where he was and why it hurt every time he breathed- a punctured lung. But as she checked his vitals and scribbled notes on a clipboard, Reid noticed that she kept a wary eye on him, standing out of arm's reach- not that he could do anything, strapped to the bed (something that was yet another mystery).

       Finished taking notes, the nurse nodded at him, “Your team will be in here shortly.” She said, then left.

       The door had barely closed behind her when it burst open again, his teammates pouring through. “You’re awake!” Garcia exclaimed, hugging him as best she could with Reid unable to actually move his arms more than an inch and a half.

       Morgan stood right behind her. “How are you feeling, Reid?” he asked with concerned eyes. Reid couldn’t help but notice that his friend was sporting several bruises and scrapes, and wondered yet again what had happened that he couldn’t remember. Morgan was hurt and Reid hadn’t been there to help him. A part of him recognized that even if he had been there when Morgan took down the unsub, he probably wouldn’t have been able to do much in the first place, but the feeling that he should have been there persisted nonetheless.

       “I’m alright.” Reid moved to sit up, but was stopped by a combination of the restraints and a sudden pain in his side. “Did you catch the unsub? What happened to the kid?”

       Morgan glanced back at Hotch, “Yeah, we caught the unsub. Brian is fine, but recovering. How much do you remember?”

       “Nothing,” the half dragon admitted, “I remember driving back from the Turing’s house and then not much else. It’s pretty fuzzy. It was dark, and…” Reid stopped to think, “I just remember the dark.”

       Blake stepped forwards to stand by the foot of his bed, “You were abducted by the unsub on your way back from interviewing the family.”

       “What happened? Why am I strapped to the bed?”

       JJ grimaced, “Reid, we don’t really know what happened- we were hoping you would be able to tell us. When we found the place the unsub was keeping you and the kid, you attacked Morgan. You’re strapped to the table because you tried to attack one of the nurses. They had to strap you down, but even then you head-butted one of them.”

       Reid’s mind blanked, “What?”

       Morgan nodded, “I opened the door and you straight up tackled me. Eventually you passed out and we were able to get both you and the kid to the hospital.”

       His mind scrambled for something to say: I’m sorry, I don’t remember, are you alright, so that’s why the nurse was avoiding me. But when he opened his mouth to say something, anything, nothing came out. Garcia patted his cheek, “Hey, it’s ok Boy Wonder. We just needed to see you. Go to sleep and we’ll be here when you wake up again.”

       And so despite the confusion and the guilt, Reid allowed himself to fall into sleep in much the same way someone overwhelmed with the world lets themself fall into a satisfyingly large bean bag chair.


	4. Chapter 4

       Everyone was staring at him. This, Reid supposed, was to be expected when you sneeze rather loudly in the middle of an important meeting with the Director of the FBI. They had been discussing the impact of the team’s behavior when interacting with local law enforcement and how that reflected on the Bureau as a whole. It was probably important, but Reid hadn’t been paying too much attention, content to let his more personable teammates take the lead as he blended into the background. He was able to zone out and enjoy the lack of scrutiny- at least until he sneezed and drew the attention of everyone in the room.

       If wishes equated to reality, Reid would have disappeared so much no one would ever remember that he existed. Unfortunately for him, (but fortunate for the people whose lives he would go on to save) he did not instantaneously vanish from the face of the earth. Instead, he muttered some apology, not entirely audible, but the words “pollen” and “allergies” were definitely in there somewhere.

       Awkward silence can only last so long, so Reid sat there uncomfortable until the discussion resumed. It was only a few minutes later that he recognized the building sensation of an oncoming sneeze accompanied by a substantial feeling of foreboding and dread at the prospect of a repeat of the previous situation. Despite his best attempts, the sneeze was still loud, everyone noticed, and Reid resigned himself to a slow and painful death by embarrassment.

       This happened several more times, much to Reid’s distress. Kate, who was seated next to him, periodically gave him concerned looks, glancing between him and the director. After the first few sneezes, she moved her stack of files to the other side of her part of the table, opposite of where he was sitting. It was only after the painfully long meeting was over that Reid had the chance to ask her about it.

       Reluctantly, she admitted that she was concerned he would accidentally singe her papers, or the director’s eyebrows.

       “You guys do know that I can’t actually breathe fire, right?” Reid asked, frowning.

       Kate grinned, “See, you say that, but we really have no way of knowing. And it’s better to be safe than singed.”

       Reid groaned- Kate was never going to let this go- but was cut off by a sneeze. Just great.

\-------------------

       Reid didn’t like to scare people. Most of the time the thought that he _could_ scare people was laughable and after being afraid for so much of his life, fear wasn’t something he wanted to spread. If people were going to respect him (and heavens know Reid wanted them to), he wanted them to respect him based on his intellect, his accomplishments, and his ability to effectively do his job, not because of fear and intimidation. When he made a breakthrough in a case or got information out of a suspect it was because he had dedicated years to the study of the human minds, and how to use his words like finely sharpened surgical instruments, able to pick apart what was presented to get to the truth underneath.

       That isn’t to say a small part of him wasn’t envious when Morgan and Hotch were able to walk into a room and instantly gain the respect of everyone within- something Reid had to constantly struggle and fight to gain. Reid knew he didn’t look strong or intimidating, and he could use that to his advantage, letting unsubs underestimate him, but it still stung when people’s gazes passed right by him, never giving him a second glance.

       Even now, Reid stood behind the one way mirror, watching with habitually smothered envy as Hotch stared down the suspect with a stony expression. But for this unsub, intimidation wasn’t going to help. The burly suspect’s posture was stiff and aggressive, his teeth bared in a sanguine grin.

       The lead police officer walked past Reid and pushed open the door, joining Hotch in the interrogation room. She whispered something to him, and he nodded. They both left the room. On their way out, Hotch paused near Reid. “They need me to update everyone. Can you take over the questioning?” And then he was gone.

       This was… not how Reid expected things would go, but between a compromised crime scene and the mildly questionably circumstances under which the unsub had been brought in, they needed a confession for the case to have any traction in court. So the half-dragon took a breath and walked into the interrogation room.

       Morgan would have started off with a bang, confronting the unsub with evidence and demanding an explanation. JJ would have tried to connect with him, building a sort of connection that could be used. Rossi would have started with carefully phrased statements designed to push the unsub buttons. Reid didn’t do any of that. Instead, he sat across from the unsub, posture deliberately relaxed, not saying a word.

       The unsub raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed with Reid’s general imposingness. Reid didn’t respond, watching every move the unsub made. “Who are you supposed to be? A walking stick?” The unsub taunted, trying to find an outlet for the pent up aggression from Hotch’s interrogation.

       Reid continued to wait silently, letting the unsub fish for reactions. He tried a few more time to bait Reid into arguing, but his effort and amount of force behind the statements slowly dwindled until they both sat in silence, staring at each other. Legends spoke of dragons as ancient protectors, laying in wait for thousands of years to defend their gold from thieves. They could wait, unmoving for what was generations to anything else, stoically bearing the ages for the sake of protecting their treasure.

       It was this equanimity that surfaced in Reid as the silence stretched into uncomfortable stillness and the unsub started to squirm. Reid smiled- the unsub would start talking sooner or later. He may not be intimidating or scary, but if dragons of old could lie in wait for eons to defend their gold then Reid could outlast the unsub to protect something infinitely more precious.

\----------------------------------

       Romantic prospects had never seemed to be a prominent factor in Reid’s life. Going through school years younger than the rest of his classmates had made romantic relationships an unlikely occurrence. Then, when he was out of college and in the BAU his work, his research, and his mom had filled his life. There was no time or need for anything more, not to mention the potential awkwardness and problems that would arise from the inevitable discovery of his more inhuman features. So with a few exceptions- the most notable of which being Lila Archer- he had never really met anyone he could imagine a life with.

       If you start with a pool of people willing to date someone with the sporadic schedule working at the BAU demands, narrow it down to people who don’t get annoyed with him within the first five minutes, narrow that down to people who can keep up with him, narrow that down to people whom he actually enjoys being around, it’s a pretty small group of people. From there, if you add in his general emotional unawareness and draconic heritage, that pool dwindles to practically nothing, one in a million.

       And yet. He had found Maeve, the one in a million, by chance. Their relationship was made complicated by her stalker, his work, and the fact that they had never even met, but they made it work. He took the proper precautions, called her from a different payphone every week, never talked to her for too long, and didn’t dig too much into her background. He had been confident that when the stalker was no longer a problem they’d have all the time in the world to get to know her face to face.

       She was brilliant, functioning on a level not even he could match. She was funny, quickly catching on to his particular quirks and sense of humor. She was kind and caring, and suddenly she was someone Reid could see himself spending the rest of his life with. He had even told her about his more inhuman aspects, when he sent his MRI scans to her- it was too significant of a factor to overlook- but she hadn’t left, hadn’t stopped talking to him. She had been surprised, yes, and had asked lots of questions, but it was out of curiosity instead of fear and disgust.

       So they had continued talking, even after the headaches had subsided. Reid had discovered that he was actually looking forwards to their discussion, keeping a countdown in his head until the next time he could call her. This went on for over six months. Six months with once a week phone calls, never seeing her face, never getting to meet her face to face.

       Their conversations ranged over almost every imaginable topic: their work, various scientific theories, music, books, coffee, movies, his dragon traits, and one time the cultural impacts of quilting. Reid felt like they could talk for hours without running out of things to say, and yet the words themselves were inconsequential; they could be discussing the intricacies of ancient mesopotamian fashion or prominent accountants in the 1900’s for all he cared, so long as he was talking with her.

       Then one day she said “I love you” and his brain stopped functioning. His mind, which usually ran at light speed suddenly went blank, unable to come up with a coherent thought, let alone response. If it had been a cartoon, the record scratch/stop noise would have been overlaid his stunned expression.

       The next time his mind went blank was when he got the phone call about her abduction. But then it was an emptiness, a hollowness like a piece of him was missing, a piece he never realized he needed until it was gone. And then it was and his world fell apart. Outside of his mom and the team, there was nobody more important to him than Maeve, and she was gone. The part of his heart that she had occupied was torn away, leaving nothing but a raw, gaping, bloody hole that eventually scabbed over but never fully healed.

       Reid was lost, drifting in a fog of grief. He had lost people before, but this was somehow different. Before, he had always expected the people in his life to leave at some point. He enjoyed them and their friendship or company, but he had understood the relationship to be temporary at best so he wasn’t surprised when they inevitably disappeared. The only other time he had felt this empty was when Gideon left, and he still hadn’t fully come to terms with that either. But in both instances, the only thing to do was to wait for the worst to pass, then glue the broken pieces together as best he could.

\-----------------

       Lewis could tell that there was something going on between Reid and Morgan. They had been carefully avoiding each other, not interacting, speaking, or making eye contact. But as soon as Morgan turned around to work on something, Reid would glare daggers at the back of his head. When Morgan looked up, Reid would resume whatever he was doing previously, watching him from the corner of his eye. Morgan, Lewis was positive, knew that Reid was glaring at him, but gave no outward signs to indicate it. Instead, their gazes skated across the room like the other wasn’t there, not reacting when they passed like they didn’t even realize the other was there, and avoiding mentioning or even alluding to the other in their conversations with teammates.

       She hadn’t been on the team long, but she had already heard of their legendary prank wars with a tendency to get out of hand. She knew of their close friendship, so it was unlikely that they were truly at odds at eachother, but Reid at least was acting rather antagonistic- a sharp contrast to his usual demeanor.

       “Why are you glaring at him?” Lewis finally asked him after an hour and a half of fruitless analyzing.

       Reid looked up, a carefully constructed look of bewilderment on his face, “Who?”

       Lewis stared at him and crossed her arms, “You and Morgan. You’ve been ignoring each other today, and you’ve been glaring at him every chance you get. I’ve asked around, but no one knows of anything significant that happened recently, so I’m asking you: Why are you glaring at him?”

       Reid dropped the innocent expression and a small, almost cold smile tugged at his lips as his eyes hardened, giving them an inhuman sheen. “I’m hoping he spontaneously combusts.”

       Lewis fought to keep her expression calm, but she couldn’t help but glance down at his arms where the tan scales were visible, only partially hidden by his short button down shirt. In the harsh overhead lighting of the Quantico offices, they refracted the light and caught the eye with a subtle rainbow shimmer. She glanced back up, mouth open to ask a question, but he had turned back to his work.

       The team had never said outright that Reid was anything other than human. On paper, the agent had an obscure skin condition and horns (horns!) that were never given an explanation. Frankly, Lewis was a little scared to ask. But even without the physical aspects, there was something off about him. It was clear in the way Reid moved, in the way he could stare unblinking at someone for far longer that should be possible. The way his attention could shift topics in an instant, following a thread of ideas faster than Lewis could even start to comprehend. The way Reid would sometimes grin humorlessly, a baring of teeth that seemed more preditary than anything else.

       Yes, there was something not quite human about Reid, but when Lewis would think about bringing it up or asking a question, he would be back to the dorky, awkward genius, the little brother of the group. Coming from anyone else, the combustion remark would be funny, a joke, a diversion to distract her from the real reason Reid and Morgan were acting so strangely. But in this case, Lewis couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut, that maybe it wasn’t so impossible for Morgan to spontaneously burst into flame from the force of Reid’s glare.

       Knowing that if she said anything to that effect, she’d sound crazy at best, Lewis kept her mouth shut and her eyes open, watching the strange dance of Morgan and Reid, and half expecting the smell of smoke and burning clothes.

       Nothing like that ever happened, and later she berated herself for being so paranoid. After a few days, whatever the conflict was, it got resolved because they were back to normal: no avoiding, no glaring, and no cryptic remarks. So she tried to tell herself she was just imagining things, reading deeper into things that weren’t as complicated as she was trying to make them. And for a while she’d succeed, but then there would be something small, something strange, and all Lewis’ questions would be surface in full force once more.


	5. Chapter 5

        “It’s only early October. There’s no need to start decorating for Halloween already.” As soon as the words left Morgan’s mouth, he realized who exactly he was talking to. The room froze for a moment, a collective held breath waiting to see what would happen. Garcia and Reid turned from their spiderwebs and hanging bats to stare at Morgan, their heads turning in sync like the twins from The Shining.

        “You speak treason against the gloriousness that is Halloween. For shame.” Garcia shakes her head sadly, the very essence of a disappointed pout. Clad in black and white striped tights and an orange pumpkin dress, she was a seasonally festive herald concerned with the lack of fervor in her disciples.

        “You’d think he’d appreciate it more, what with all the hard work we’ve done.” Reid added, ever the enthusiast to both mess with Morgan and to advocate for the wonders of Halloween.

        The technical analyst tilted her head, an idea glimmering in her eyes and a smile spreading across her face. Morgan knew that whatever it was that she was planning would not end well for him. “It’s almost like he needs help developing a proper respect for this wonderful holliday.”

        Morgan raised his hands in surrender, “I apologize, I love the decorations. Just whatever you’re planning baby girl, please, no.”

        Garcia turned to Reid, “What do you think? Is he being sincere?”  
The little punk surveyed him with wide innocent eyes and a carefully blank face, “I don’t know, Garcia. It doesn’t seem like it.” Morgan narrowed his eyes; Reid had a great poker face but this was an over the top act- they were just messing with him now.

        The eccentric hacker, snapped her bejeweled finger and turned to the side in a regal pose, a queen about to deliver a pronouncement to her people. “Then it is decided. There is a Medieval themed Halloween costume party and the two of you are coming to it- with suitable costumes.”

        Morgan grinned- a party he could do- and gave a little bow, “As my lady commands.”

        Reid nodded in affirmation, mouth quirked up on one side in an amused smile, silently laughing at their antics. This would be good. Halloween was his favorite holiday, and what better way to spend it than with his best friends?

\------------------

        “You know, Halloween is sometimes called All Hallow’s Eve in reference to the day after Halloween, November 1st, being the feast of All Hallow’s Day, which begins a three day celebration called Allhallowtide. Other elements can be traced back to the Celtic festival of Samhain, where they wore costumes and lit bonfires to ward off ghosts, probably where we get Jack-O-lanterns from. Even further back is the Roman holiday of Feralia in late October which commemorated the passing of the dead.” Garcia placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder, effectively cutting off his rambling screed. 

        “Honey, slow down. I’m only catching every other word.” She informed him, a smile tugging at her lips.

        “Sorry,” Reid paused, chewing on his thumb for a moment, “How is your costume designing coming along?” 

        Garcia beamed at him, “Great! I’ve got all the sewing done so all I need to do are the finishing touches. How is yours going?”

        “Um, good.” He replied half-heartedly, not trying to hard to cover the fact that he was lying.

        The self proclaimed Queen of All Knowledge raised an eyebrow, “I may not be a profiler, but even I can tell you’re lying.”

        “Well I did have a costume, and it was great. I had found this robe that I modified and a gnarled staff with a cool crystal on the top and everything. Then we left for that case a few days ago.”

        Garcia nodded, “The weird murders where the victims were posed like Victorian art.”

        “Yeah.” Reid winced, “Then when I went back to my apartment it was ruined!”

        “What happened?” 

        He shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure. But from what my neighbors have told me, it involved a stray cat, a malfunctioning flamethrower, and several cans of silly string.” At Garcia’s curious expression he laughed, “I have no clue how any of those things went together, but now my costume is in tiny, singed chunks. I’ve been trying to assemble a new outfit, but…” 

        “It’s not the same.” Garcia finished, nodding sympathetically. “You could ask Morgan, he might have something you could wear.”

        The half-dragon snorted, “I’d be surprised if he’s even started on his costume yet.”

        Garcia held up a finger to silence him, “No. You will not slander the good name of my Morgan. I have faith that he has a costume.”

        The aforementioned agent slid in his chair over to where the other two were talking. “Did I hear my name, sweetness?” Morgan leaned back lazily, letting the leftover momentum in the wheely chair carry him around in a slow circle. 

        “Oh sugar, you know you did. Do you have your costume ready for tomorrow?”

        “That I do.” He paused when Garcia turned to give a pointed look at Reid. “What’s up? What’s going on?”

        Before Reid could do anything to shut the conversation down, Garcia filled Morgan in with the same rapid-fire informative tone she used for debriefings, “Reid had a costume but now it’s ruined. There’s not enough time to make a new one. Everything I have is made for a female figure, so do you have any he could use?”

        “It’ll be fine!” Reid protested, “I’ll just use my 11th doctor costume.”

        “But that’s not medieval.” Garcia pointed out

        “Well what else can I do?”

        Morgan snapped his finger and pointed at Garcia. “I’ve got an idea. Garcia, you’re going as a maiden or something right?”

        “An enchantress.” she corrected

        “Sure. And I’m going as a knight. So you know what would be perfect, would fit with the theme, and wouldn’t need too much of a costume?” 

        A look of understanding dawned in Reid’s eyes. “Oh, no. That’s a terrible idea.”

        Morgan grinned, “I think it’s a great idea.”

\-----------------------

        “Do you think he’ll come out?” Morgan and Garcia were waiting in Garcia’s car outside Reid’s apartment. Morgan had previously insisted on driving, but seeing as he was covered in very bulky, unmaneuverable armor, Garcia had pulled veto power. So the two of them sat in the idling car, hoping no one would look through the window to closely at their costumes. 

        “Of course,”  Garcia replied, “It’s Halloween; he can’t not be festive.” But even as she spoke, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel nervously.

        Morgan shrugged, “Do you think he’ll really do it, or will he have scraped together some backup costume by now?”

        His question was answered for him when the door to the apartment swung open and Reid walked out. In the mild October weather, he wore a sleeveless garment that Garcia recognized as the tattered, singed remains of the wizard robe. The edges were shredded and charred, billowing behind him as he walked and lending to the illusion of wings. His hair was brushed back so that it was no longer actively hiding his horns and with the lack of sleeves on the robe, the scales on his arms could be clearly seen. In the late afternoon sun, with the low light glinting off his scales, Reid gave off the sense of something other, something unpredictable and powerful. The effect was subtle enough to go unnoticed, but as he glided towards the waiting car he held the onlookers in a spell, unable to look away. 

        Meeting his friends gazes, the half dragon gave an awkward wave and the spell was broken; it was just Reid, no longer hiding. “Look at you!” Garcia squealed as soon as Reid was within grabbing distance, “You look amazing! With your horns and the robe and everything!” 

        Reid folded himself into the back seat of the car, clearly unsure how to respond to Garcia’s exuberant gushing. He settled for an embarrassed smile, “Thanks.”

        As the car pulled out of the parking space, Morgan turned around in his seat to face his friend, “You do look great, Pretty Boy.” He grinned over his shoulder, “Though we were half convinced you wouldn’t come out.”

        “And miss a Halloween party and the atrocious nature of your costume?” Reid put a hand to his chest in mock afrontedness, “I would never.”

        Morgan looked down at his plastic armor, suddenly inadequate in the light of the intricate handmade charms Garcia wore and the authenticity of Reid’s outfit. Though the contrast wasn’t completely surprising, as he had admittedly bought it for twenty dollars at Walmart. He laughed, “Well if it convinced you to do anything to your rat’s nest of hair, then I consider it a win.”

        Garcia punched Morgan lightly on the arm, “Morgan’s the one who thought you might not come. I never doubted; my confidence was as unwavering as your dedication to the holiday.”

        Reid smiled, at ease in the companionship of his friends as they wound their way through congested traffic, the car bright with laughter and good natured ribbing. The night was off to a good start, but it was anyone's guess how it would end.

\-------------------

        Despite Morgan’s initial misgivings, the food was good, the decorations were elaborate, the music was decent, and he was enjoying himself far more than he had expected to. When they first arrived he had stuck close to Garcia and Reid, but after a while Garcia gave Reid a self satisfied grin when their friend disappeared into the crowd on the tail of someone in a cat costume. Morgan laughed easily with the people around him; he never did have any trouble getting friendly with women (or men for that matter) at parties, or clubs, or what have you. He flirted and joked, and more than once took full advantage of the costume theme for some well placed puns. All in all, he was glad his friends convinced him to come. 

        Feeling the thrum of the music and the flashing of the lights, Garcia was soon swept up in the excitement. The costumes ranged from last minute purchases to well thought out creations, and she received no shortage of compliments on hers. She drifted between groups of people, greeting those she knew and introducing herself to those she didn’t. The music was fun, the costumes and food were great, but she came because of the people.

        Reid, though never one for the dancing and loud music, found a group of people to raid the food and debate the merits of various horror movies with. It started with one person dressed as Jason and another person dressed as  Michael Myers getting into an argument over which character was a better serial killer. Reid and a few of the surrounding people voiced their opinion, and the conversation became more jovial and less heated. Even though Reid considered himself a fairly well rounded person, with a relatively deep knowledge of horror movies, there were some brought up that he hadn’t seen yet, so he started a list. 

        They were discussing the special effects of The Poltergeist when one of the people in the group, a younger guy dressed as the Joker, bragged that he could do better special effects with a handful of streamers and some LED’s. This, of course, led to a discussion of simple special effects- a topic closely bordering on magic tricks. Reid smiled; this could be interesting. 

        Morgan had broken away his group and was perusing the snacks when he heard it; cheers and gasps of amazement from the room next to the kitchen, quiet at first, but growing louder as more people went over to see what it was about. His curiosity getting the best of him, he shrugged, grabbed a handful of cheese popcorn, and followed the stream of people. 

        Something was going on, that at least Garcia knew. What exactly was going on, she was less sure of. There were a lot of people in one room, and they were excited about something, but even with her new heels, Garcia was too short to see over the growing crowd. “I need someone tall,” She muttered to herself, surveying the crowd for any familiar tall people. A chainmail covered head caught her eye, “Morgan!” she called, “Don’t move!”

        When she reached him, Garcia linked her arm through his, “Alright, I don’t want to lose you. What’s going on?” she asked, “I can’t see.”

        Morgan’s attention didn’t waver from whatever it was everyone was looking at. He spoke without looking at her, “It’s Reid.”

        “Reid?” Garcia was even more confused now, what was Reid doing that would draw this large of a crowd? But before she could voice her question, a column of flame burst forth, visible even to her. “What the..” she trailed off, speaking no longer a priority as more fire appeared, in bursts, and rings, and a jet that seemed like it would set the curtains on fire. 

        “This I’ve got to see.” Grabbing Morgans arm, she shouldered her way through the crowd until she was at the back of the room where the fire was coming from. In the low light of the room, the glow of the fire cast everything in a flickering orange. Suddenly, flame billowed, the sharp contrast of it making Garcia shield her eyes. Even behind partially closed eyes, she could see the brightness of the fire and feel the sudden dry heat of it baking her skin like the time she stood too close to a bonfire and almost caught her skirt on fire. 

        When it no longer felt like her eyeballs were melting, she peeked out from behind her hand at her surroundings. Sure enough, there was Reid, with a lighter in one hand and a towel in the other. He caught her eye and grinned, causing Garcia to start in surprise- it almost looked like something in his mouth was glowing, light leaking out between his teeth. He took another breath (and Garcia could swear there was something in his mouth), lifted up his hand, and blew, sending a spout of flame over their heads.

        Everything she was Reid do went against everything she had seen before at carnivals and parades. When she had seen others “breathe fire”, they always had a torch, a fuel supply, and never actually had fire in their mouth. But when she asked Reid about it after the party, he simply smiled. “Magicians secret” he said with breath that smelled of smoke.


	6. Chapter 6

       There were few people JJ trusted with Henry. Probably stemming from the nature of both her and Will’s jobs, she had an overprotective streak a mile wide: you can only investigate missing kids so many times before you start worrying every time your child plays in the yard alone, or is approached by a stranger, or is left alone with a sitter. The last worry however, babysitting, was rarely as large of a concern as it could have been. For as much as she had to travel for cases with the BAU, Will was usually home. And when both of them were out of town, Garcia was there with colorful baubles and a cheery disposition, happy to watch her “favorite godson”.

       But on occasion, when both of them had to travel and Garcia was otherwise occupied, JJ would call Reid to babysit. For someone who so often missed interpersonal social cues, he was surprisingly adept at managing kids, and Henry adored him. Whenever he visited, Henry would drag him to the couch and pull out the copy of The Hobbit that Reid had given him one Christmas and demand to be read to. Reid would smile, and settle into the couch so that Henry could crawl up and join him. When they would get to the part where Smaug is introduced, if Reid would try to read straight through it, Henry would put his hands over the book in an attempt to stop him from reading (While it didn’t make a difference in Reid’s ability to narrate, what with his eididic memory, he would stop all the same).

       “No! Do the voice!” Henry would insist, and Reid would make a show of not understanding.

       “What voice?” the half-dragon would respond, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

       Then Henry’s eye would go wide, and he’d put on his best puppy dog face and he’d ask Reid to “Please, please do the dragon voice Uncle Spencer.”

       So Reid would acquiesce, and read all of Smaug’s lines in a voice far deeper and more gravely than JJ would have ever expected him capable of. Then, when he got to the famous lines, “I am fire. I am death,” he suddenly turned and pretend to eat Henry’s hair, which prompted the boy to retaliate with a squeal and the brandishing of an imaginary shield.

       Reid clawed at the invisible shield with imaginary talons, bemoaning it’s impenetrable nature in his “dragon voice”. Henry giggled, proud to be able to withstand such a mighty assault until he decided that it was time to continue reading the story. They propped the pillows back up from where they were scattered on the floor, rearranged themselves amongst the couch cushions, and Reid resumed reading.

       It was not an uncommon sight for JJ to return home to see Henry and Reid passed out on the couch, half covered by a throw blanket, with Henry curled up snuggly against his godfather’s side, the half dragon wrapping a protective arm over the boy’s shoulders. JJ would smile, and put her things down before walking to the couch. Reid, awoken by the sounds of her entering the house, would whisper a greeting and help her untangle Henry’s limbs from the blanket and put him to bed before waving a silent goodbye.

       There might not be very many people JJ would trust with her children, but those that she did, she had unwavering faith in. Reid may try to claim that kids tended to dislike him, but JJ would always point to Henry as living proof of the opposite.

 

\----------------

       The chime above the bookshop door dinged when Reid pushed it open. The November weather had taken a sudden turn for the colder, so it was just chilly enough that his breath came out in little visible clouds and the metal of the door handle stuck slightly to his hand when he grabbed it. Walking over the threshold, he was enveloped in a cloud of warmth and the a whiff of incense mingling with the smell of old books. The shop owner, an older woman known as Sophia who also offered psychic and tarot card readings and always seemed to know more than she let on, barely looked up from her book.

       “Welcome back, Spencer. Congratulations on catching your criminal.” Her voice was low and ethereal, something you’d expect to hear coming from some ageless deity in a movie. Their latest case had been only a few hours drive away, and fairly well covered by the media, so it was technically possible for her to have followed the case that way, but Reid had never actually seen her in the presence of any technology older than the hot plate in the back of the store that looked like it had been salvaged from an ex-Boy Scout’s attic. So while she might have heard it on the news, or read about it online, Reid would not be surprised if it was something she just _knew_.

       “Thanks,” He replied, “Anything new?”

       She hummed, “Nothing you haven’t read before, though someone stopped by and bought all of our books on French Philosophy.”

       “Really?” Reid thumbed through a stack of volumes on Birds of North and South America.

       “Every one. It’s far from the most popular section, but now at least I have an excuse to lurk at more auction houses.” Sophia looked up from her book to smile at Reid, “Or at least more than I already do.”

       Reid shook his head with a laugh, the bookstore-owner-and-possible-prophetess was known for her love-hate relationship with auction houses. It was considered to be good fortune for any auctions held in the area for Sophia to bless the establishment with her presence (though that good fortune seemed to come with a caveat, as few auctioneers eked by without her discovering something they had mislabeled, or assigned the wrong date to, which was inevitably followed by a grandmotherly scolding of the importance of proper research and attribution). “Well if you see any, be sure to pick up some of de Beauvoir’s work.”

       Sophia made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh (though by the twist of her lips, Reid was willing to bet it was the latter), “When would I not?”

       “You speak the truth, Sophia.” The half-dragon smiled when he found a shelf of folklore, pulling one down carefully and sitting down on a nearby couch to look through it. He had discovered Sophia’s bookstore -The Pillars of Wisdom- only a few days after moving to the area. For his whole life he had been surrounded by books; from his mother’s hoard, to the local library, to the ever growing shelves of textbooks he had accumulated from classes required to earn his various degrees. So as soon as he had moved into his apartment, he realized it felt empty- he needed books.

       After a little bit of digging (okay, he asked a few people at the coffee shop down the road from the apartment), he happened upon The Pillars of Wisdom, which was tucked between an investment agency and an organic grocery co-op. The only visible sign it existed from the street was a dark purple door and an arrow with the ever descriptive label of “Wisdom” pointing into an ascending staircase.

       It had been raining enough that Reid was thoroughly damp but when he walked through the door to see the shelves of books stretching up to the ceiling, he knew he had found what he was looking for. Reid prided himself on sharp senses, and yet he didn’t notice Sophia until she was standing two feet away. The older lady had immediately assessed his cold, damp self, and insisted he sit on the couch while she made some tea and grabbed her tarot deck.

       Thus a pattern was established in Reid’s early days of working at the BAU; after he returned from a case, or a trip to guest lecture at a university, or even just a particularly grueling day at work, he would buy a chocolate mocha (for himself) and an oolong tea (for Sophia) before stopping by her shop to read, talk, have his cards read, or simply to enjoy the company of a friend.

       His after-work visits were rarely long, though on the weekend or on days off, he could spend hours scrounging through the shelves for something he hadn’t yet read, or discussing the merits of various authors and time periods with anyone else who happened to stop by. He never asked about her (most definitely) supernatural background, and she never asked about his, but whenever he stepped into her shop, it was understood that he had entered the protection of a force far greater than himself.

\---------------

       “This shouldn’t be this hard.” Spencer Reid, certifiable genius, respected federal agent, descendant of dragons, and Doctor of Philosophy three times over frowned at the food laid out on his counter. He had offered to bring the mashed potatoes to the annual BAU Thanksgiving that was to take place (barring any unforeseen kidnappings or murders) that evening. _It won’t be hard_ , he had thought to himself at the time, _it’s just boiling and mashing potatoes. I can do that. It’s not like I signed up to bring the turkey_ (Rossi had, every year he was on the team, insisted that he bring the turkey. It was always delicious and Reid didn’t dare insinuate otherwise).

       Unfortunately, Reid had not, at the time of offering to bring mashed potatoes, considered when Thanksgiving was that year. And as a result, Reid was in the middle of a shed, his skin itched, he couldn’t see, and he was about to attempt to cook with knives and fire. When he had realized that he would be shedding over Thanksgiving, he had just figured that he could stop by the store to buy some mashed potatoes, failing to take into consideration the hundreds of other individuals in a similar situation to him (similar via needing last minute mashed potatoes, not similar via the scales over their eyes turning cloudy and being unable to see clearly enough to safely cook) and it was only upon his arrival at the store, staring in frustration at the empty shelf of instant mashed potato flakes, that he realized his lapse in judgement. And that is how Reid had come to be squinting dejectedly at a pile of potatoes that weren’t going to peel themselves, wishing desperately that they would.

       “It’ll be fine,” he reassured himself, “I’ll just go slowly and carefully, and not lose any fingers.”

       Slowly and carefully did he go, stopping to double check his fingers weren’t in the path of the knife and peeling them little bits at a time. When all the potatoes were peeled (with only two small incidents that were quickly resolved with cold water and band-aids), Reid breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t done, but at least now there was less of an imminent danger of bodily harm. So feeling slightly more optimistic about the entire situation, he set a pot of water to boil, and surveyed his progress with pride.

       This lasted approximately until Reid went to check if the potatoes were fully cooked and realized that between this cloudy vision and impaired depth perception, there was a greater chance of jetpack-equipped penguins flying as pilots in the United States Air Force than of him being able to successfully spear a potato with a fork in a pot of boiling water. After several unsuccessful stabs, he tossed the fork towards the sink (it bounced off the faucet and landed on the floor) and began rummaging through a drawer for a spaghetti spoon.

       Needless to say, it was a while before the mashed potatoes were done.

\------------

       The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, quickly followed by the manic barking of a dog and the patterning of children almost falling on their face because they were running on smooth tile in fuzzy socks. From the kitchen, the adults could hear the cries of “Uncle Spencer! Uncle Spencer! Did you bring the mashed potatoes Uncle Spencer?”

       JJ laughed and Lewis smiled around her glass, “Any guess as to who it is?”

       “None whatsoever.” Rossi grinned, pulling a pan of green beans out of the oven.

       “Hmm… Could it be…” A certain sweater-vest clad, bowl-of-mashed-potatoes bearing genius was dragged, laughing, by two very energetic boys into the room, “Reid!”

       The agent in question smiled in response, carefully setting the covered bowl onto the counter. “Hey everyone.” He pulled off his toque, revealing the small horns peeking out of the mess that is his hair, and folded up his sunglasses.

       Garcia, who had just entered the room, frowned, “Reid, please tell me you didn’t drive here.”

       “Don’t worry, Garcia. I got a taxi.”

       The technical analyst patted his cheek. “Good. I worry about you, you know?”

       “I’m fine! And I brought the potatoes.” He gestured to the bowl with a cautious smile.

       Their standoff was interrupted by Morgan poking his head out from the doorway into the dining room, “Come on guys, it’s time to set the table. I’m ready to eat!”

       Rossi his oven mitts back on, “Alright, let's go.” He nodded to Garcia, “You know where the silverware is.”

       They all grabbed a dish, or plates, or what have you, and joined the procession into the dining room where the candles cast dancing light around the room, the mere smell of the food made their mouths water, and their family sat around the table, ready for a meal and an evening to spend with one another without worrying about motives and murder.

\-----------------

       Rossi was a sit-back-and-watch kind of guy, a show-up-later-with-flowers-and-wine kind of guy, a keep-your-mouth-shut-and-see-what-happens kind of guy. When something unexpected occurred, his policy was to keep his head down and work on it, not to make a big fuss about it. Now for other people he had no qualms about bringing out all the stops, causing an uproar, using his influence and money or implementing his extensive behavioural training for manipulation; whatever was necessary to get the job done. But for himself, for his problems, his questions, he was content to quietly gather and analyze what information he could. 

       This was why, when he re-joined the BAU, he didn’t say anything about the tall, lanky, socially awkward and clearly inhuman genius that was seen as the little brother of everyone on the team. Oh he kept track of the things he noticed- the ridiculously fast reading speed, the ability to somehow remember precise statistics that were incredibly obscure and also somehow related to the topic at hand, the way his hair stood practically on end and he got snappy whenever anyone tried to touch it. When Rossi tried to look up Reid’s file, all he got was a brief family history, sky high test scores, some vague comments about an inconsequential skin condition, and a note to keep the kid out of the field certain days out of the year. One would think that this would warrant some sort of justification - Rossi certainly did- but for all his paper digging, there wasn’t a shred of a hint of an explanation. 

       So he tucked that information away with the rest of his observations. As he got to know the kid, knowing exactly what he was became less and less important. Sure, he was still curious, but he knew that Reid was a good kid, amazing at his job, and unwaveringly loyal to Hotch and Morgan especially. Eventually, Rossi became “one of the team”, and Reid stopped tensing up whenever he walked in the room and started addressing him with the friendly familiarity he used with the other members of the team. And then one day Reid walked into the room with his hair slightly less fluffy and his sleeves rolled up.

       It took Rossi a few minutes to realize what he was seeing. At first, he thought that the light was just playing tricks on his eyes, making the kid’s arms look almost iridescent, like the light was reflecting off his upper arms. Rossi squinted; the kid was pale, but not  _ that  _ pale. Only when Reid turned around to flip through a pile of papers on his desk was the senior agent able to clearly see what was on his arm. Starting midway up his forearm and expanding up to cover his arm to the point where it was covered by his sleeves there was a faint layer of tan scales. Rossi raised his eyebrows- this was definitely something to think about. 

       When he was done assessing the implication of this information, Rossi attempted to glance subtly around the room to gauge the other agent’s reactions. To his mild amusement, none of them seemed to share his surprise, lending to his growing suspicion that whatever it was that made Reid different, the team was already well aware of. Rossi turned his attention to Hotch; the team leader had a reputation for ruling with a kind but hotel-mattress-firm hand. He knew from his own past and recent interactions with the man that if he trusted the kid to do his job and to keep the rest of the team safe… Well Rossi wasn’t going to question him. 

       While he had too many to count, Rossi never vocalized his questions, never intruded on what he presumed was probably a sensitive topic. Instead, he continued to gather information, make observations, and keep his thoughts in his head. It was Reid, after all. If it had been anyone else, Rossi would have many questions and comments to voice, but this kid was a brilliant agent, a dedicated friend, and someone he was quickly beginning to think of as family.

       Rossi was a let-the-other-person-talk-first kind of guy, a don’t-ask-questions-you-don’t-want-answered kind of guy, an actions-speak-louder-than-words kind of guy. He was curious (who wouldn’t be) and there were many things he wanted nothing more than to understand, but he also understood the value in waiting, in not pushing people farther than they were willing to go. Then, when the answers came, they were all the sweeter for the knowledge that he hadn’t lost a friend in the process of information seeking. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

       It started with a practical joke, as many of the problems Morgan and Reid found themselves in did. They were on the plane back to Virginia from a long and exhausting but ultimately successful case; three children had been kidnapped and taken on a week long cross country chase. Thanks to key information from Garcia and Reid’s geographical profile, they had been able to confront the unsub and rescue the kids. The victory felt good, but the team was exhausted and Reid fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down.

       Morgan, in contrast, was entirely too jittery to even think about sleeping. He had been existing on little sleep and too much coffee and adrenaline for the past week, but unlike Reid he was less accustomed to it and was unable to sit still for long. Overflowing with anxious energy, there were only so many times Morgan could pace the length of the plane before his mind turned to more creative (and devious) forms of distraction.

       Most of the team was (like Reid) dead asleep, and Hotch was busy talking to someone, probably the director, on the phone. Attempting to be quiet (though it probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyways), Morgan searched through JJ’s purse until he found the bag of hair ties he knew she always kept in one of the pockets. Holding it up to see the small elastic ties, the agent grinned to himself and tried not to laugh too loudly. 

       After spending several nights sharing a hotel room with Reid, Morgan knew for a fact that while he rarely slept, when he did nothing short of an earthquake or an air horn would wake the kid up. So with little caution and fewer qualms, Morgan stood behind the chair that the reptilian genius was slumped over in, his face buried in the crook of his elbow on the table and his hair sticking out like a five year old with the covers drawn up to his nose. His breath was steady and slow, slow enough that if it was anyone else Morgan would check for a pulse, but years of freaking out because he thought Reid was dead or unconscious had taught the agent that the kid just had a  _ really _ slow resting heart and breathing rate. Careful not to move him too much, Morgan chuckled softly to himself and got to work.

~~~

       Reid crawled into conscious awareness with the lethargic apathy of one who didn’t know where he was or how long he’d been asleep and wasn’t in a particular hurry to find out. Without opening his eyes, or moving, the half-dragon extended his remaining senses to take stock of the situation. From the mechanical clicks and groans, the plane was in final descent to the airstrip near the BAU headquarters. The shuffle of fabric and the low murmur of voices indicated that the rest of team were already awake and discussing their weekend plans (barring any unforeseen events, as usual). 

       Mustering the energy to fully wake up, Reid pulled himself to his feet with all the boneless grace of a ragdoll marionette. “Hey sleepyhead, what are you going to do this weekend?” JJ asked with a voice of sunshine and enthusiasm and being too awake for Reid’s comprehension. 

       At his unintelligible responding grumble, Rossi turned around to face them only to catch himself in a snort of surprised laughter. His eyes flicked between the top of Reid’s head and JJ, whose face was much more composed. Ried narrowed his eyes and shook his head, noting distantly that the distribution of weight on his head was off. He looked back and forth between the two of them; Rossi was clearly amused by something, and JJ had on her “media mask” as the expression she usually used to hide her emotions when talking to the media had been nicknamed.

       “Alright, what’s going on?” As his teammates suppressed laughter,  Reid reached up to feel the top of his head. Under his fingers, he felt the bumps and ridges of his hair, which had been twisted into dozens of tiny braids, which were sticking out from his head like a sea urchin. “What?”

       At his evident confusion, Rossi dropped his attempt at hiding his laughter and burst out in his trademark guffaw. JJ grinned at him as he shuffled over to the mirror on the wall to discover that not only was his hair entirely in braids, but that there were tiny red ribbons tied into bows around his horns. “Alright, who did this?” Reid scrutinized his teammates faces, searching for any sign of guilt. Suddenly, it dawned on him- “It was Morgan, wasn’t it?”

       Rossi and JJ said nothing, which was an answer in itself. Ried turned to survey the plane, any remaining sleep fog instantly cleared by sudden murderous intent. Stalking towards where Morgan was listening to music, he distantly registered JJ calling after him, “No fighting on the plane!”

\-----------------

       “You looking for something in particular today, or just browsing?” The voice of Sophia, the owner of Reid’s favorite bookstore, The Pillars of Wisdom, resonated throughout the shop. 

       He couldn’t see her, or even tell which direction her voice was coming from (the cave-like structure of the shop caused any and all noise to echo around until you were unable to determine its origin), but Reid called back nonetheless, speaking in the general direction of the center of the shop. “I’m trying to find a gift for my mother. Hopefully I’ll be able to visit her over the holidays, and I wanted to get her a new book for her… collection.” Reid caught himself just before he said “hoard”; Sophia most definitely knew about his heritage ( in fact, the half-dragon wasn’t sure if there was anything she  _ didn’t _ know), but he still shied away from saying it out loud. 

       Just as he started to turn back towards the bookshelves, Sophia materialized at his side, holding two steaming mugs of tea. The bookstore owner and probable literal goddess handed him one of the mugs. “Well you’re in luck. I just picked up some new copies of the Canterbury Tales at an auction and a collection of poems from local poets.”

       Reid took a sip from his cup, humming contentedly at the taste of the white tea. “What kind of poems?” 

       Sophia rummaged through the shelves behind her desk, looking through all the books she hadn’t shelved yet. “One of the tea houses downtown has been holding poetry nights for the past month and a half, and make a book of the best poems. The owner of the tea house is an old friend of mine and the poems aren’t half bad, so I bought a few copies.” She produced a thin paperback from a stack of books, rubber banded together and labeled with a sticky note “New”. 

       As Reid flipped through the pages at his usual ridiculously fast pace, Sophia studied him. Her warm brown eyes were bright with a lifetimes (or several) worth of wisdom, seemingly peering past the bags under his eyes from an exhausting, week long case, the barest tips of his horns that could be seen over his disheveled hair, and the coffee stains on his shirt. She seemed to be looking into his very being, and Reid wondered (not for the first time) exactly how much she saw. 

       “Will you be driving or flying down to visit your mother?” She asked.

       Reid tilted his head, “I haven’t decided yet, why?” Sophia wasn’t one to ask personal questions to make converversation, so if she was asking, it was probably important. 

       The bookstore owner hummed quietly, her eyes fixed on an invisible point somewhere to the right of his ear. “I’ve heard some warnings about ice along several of the highways. You’ll be safer flying.”

       There hadn’t been any mention about ice in any of the weather reports Reid had checked, either in Virginia or the area around Las Vegas, but Sophia’s predictions had never been wrong in the entire time that he’d known her. And there had been a good discount on nonstop flights the last time he had checked… Reid shrugged, paid for his book, and left to go buy a plane ticket; when in doubt, trust the prophetess.

\--------------

       The slow, constant tapping of Reid’s pen against the table had been easily ignored at first. But as the minutes dragged on, the noise grated on JJ’s nerves until she barely had any left. Reaching her limit, she spun in her chair to face him. “Reid.”

       There was no response from the half-dragon, who continued staring absently into the middle distance and tapping on the table. JJ frowned and called again, slightly louder, “Reid, hey Reid!” Still no reply or indication from Reid that he had heard her, so leaning back in her chair with her arm stretched out just long enough, she poked him at the base of his skull. 

       Previously, JJ had believed the phrase ‘jumped out of your skin’ to simply be an expression. However, after watching Reid’s reaction, she was prepared to revise her current understanding of what was and was not possible. Now that she had gotten his attention, JJ resumed her previous, far more stable, seated position. “Hey, earth to Reid.”

       The agent in question shook his head, as if to clear it of the cobwebs constructed in the 15 minutes he spent staring off into space. “Yeah?”

       Any notion of what she had intended to ask him decided to conveniently vacate her brain at just that moment, and JJ was left with an empty brain and a friend who was looking at her expectantly. “Um…” She scrounge around in her brain for a plausible question, “What are you doing for the holidays?” As far as impromptu questions went, it wasn’t the worst she could come up with.

       Reid blinked. “I’m planning on visiting my Mom. What about you?” 

       “Well, my parents are driving down from Pennsylvania to visit, and they’ll be staying to watch Henry until school starts again.” It had been over a year since her parents had visited, and their requests for photos of Henry had gotten so frequent that JJ had finally told them to come visit. 

       “That’ll be great!” Reid smiled, “Just remind them to watch out for ice on their way here.”

       “Really? I thought that the weather wasn’t supposed to turn icy until mid-January this year.” JJ knew this because she had spent no less than two and a half hours listening to her mother review several of the most prominent weather sites and try to figure out the best time for them to return to Pennsylvania. 

       As JJ watched, Reid’s expression went through several permutations of internal conflict and frustration until it finally settled on what JJ had mentally named ‘Boy, do I have things to tell you’. “There are a few stretches of highway that might get ice.”  
“I didn’t see any weather sites calling for ice. How do you know?” 

       Reid furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but before he could reply, a merry jingling of bells announced Garcia’s presence. The technical analyst had on a red knitted sweater that was covered in small bells, which produced a never-ceasing ringing that followed in her wake. “What does Reid know?” Garcia made a face, “Well, besides everything.”

       “It’s nothing,” Reid insisted, “I just… want your family to stay safe.”

       Garcia narrowed her eyes “Is this one of your magic superpowers?” She demanded, incredulous that she hadn’t been informed of this potential development. “Because if you’re psychic and haven’t told me…”

       ”No!” Reid immediately verbally backpedaled, “I mean, I’m not psychic. I don’t have... superpowers. You know this.” He frowned pointedly at Garcia, who pouted.

       “So many potential lottery wins.” She sighed wistfully.

       JJ smiled at Garcia’s dramatic antics, then turned back to Reid, hands on her hips in mock interrogation, “Then how do you know about the ice? It’s not on any weather predictions, and if you’re not psychic, then how?”

       The half-dragon was visibly folding in on himself, “I… heard it from a friend?” He gave a smile that looked more than a little bored and shrugged.

       Expecting what was about to happen, JJ looked over to see Garcia visibly perk up. “A friend? What friend? How did they know?” The colorful (and jingly) technical analyst was almost as forceful in her interrogation as JJ was. 

       Both women scrutinized Reid's face, searching for any revealing tells. “Aha!” Garcia pointed an accusing finger at Reid, who was looking more and more like he’d much rather be anywhere else than in this situation. “His eyebrow twitched!” She looked over at JJ expectantly, “What does that mean?”

       “Nothing!” Reid insisted, which of course both of his interrogators took to mean that it was definitely something.

       “Hmm, I think you’re lying.” JJ shared a look with Garcia, “What do you think?”

       But before Garcia could reply, Rossi materialized out of his office, “I for one think that you two should stop harassing Reid and go home. Something that I, for one, cannot wait to do.” 

       With JJ and Garcia handily distracted with Rossi’s intrusion, Reid took his cue to escape. It was only later that JJ realized that he had left for good. He was obviously hiding something that had to do with his mysterious “friend”, and JJ was determined to figure out what it was. But that would have to wait until after the holidays, she decided, and pulled out her phone to send two texts: One was to Garcia, wishing her a happy holidays and asking her to put out feelers for Reid’s friend, the second was to her parents, warning them to keep an eye out for ice.

\---------------

       It was January. They were in Maine. There was someone making large, extremely detailed paintings in the snow with human blood. It was cold. And Reid just wanted to sleep. 

       “Where is he getting the blood from?” JJ asked. After visiting the latest site and as they waited for DNA from the blood samples from each of the three sites to be analyzed, Reid, Luke, and JJ were seated around a table, trying to form some understanding of the situation.

       “Is he actively murdering people, or is he stealing bagged blood from a hospital or something?” Luke stared at the photographs of the sites as if they would provide the necessary answers.

       Not bothering to look up from his files, Reid shook his head. “He’s not getting it from a hospital. At least two people were killed for this blood.”

       The weight of his teammates gazes were boring into Reid’s head, but he still didn’t look up. “Do you know something we don’t?” JJ raised her eyebrows, gesturing with one hand for him to elaborate.

       Reid met her eyes with a vexed expression that was clear even through the several jackets and blankets he was currently burritoed in. “I know lots of things you don’t, you’ll have to be more specific.” 

       JJ’s eye roll in response was equal parts amused and exasperated, “How do you know the blood is from a victim of an unsub?”

       “It smelled to fresh to have been from a donor at a hospital.”

       For a minute, nobody said anything. Reid continued surveying the files, either unaware or uncaring of the looks of shock, confusion, and bewilderment that were displayed on the faces of his colleagues. “I’m sorry,” Luke’s voice was unwavering, a stark contrast to his varying expression. “But what do you mean?”

       Reid shrugged, suddenly looking self conscious as if just now realizing how that sounded. He tilted his head down so that his voice was partially muffled by his scarf. “Blood smells different when it’s old, and the sites definitely smelled fresh.”

       JJ folded her hands in front of her mouth and stared at him over them. “So… I’m going to ignore how you know that and focus on the what. If we’re operating under the assumption that an unsub is out there, draining people of their blood, then the next step is to figure out who it is and why they’re doing it.”

       The other two agents nodded in agreement, and Luke blinked his shocked expression away. “Alright, let me call Garcia.” He didn’t get the chance to do that, for as he reached for his phone, the door to the conference room they had commandeered burst open. 

       Prentiss stood in the doorway, filling the room with her somber, bad-news-delivering presence. It took only a second for Reid to come to the conclusion that whatever bad news she was about to tell them, it would probably involve him having to get up and leave his blanket cocoon. “Another painting has been found. Let’s go.” 

       Vocalising his resigned frustration in front of Prentiss would most likely result in a Prentiss patented look of sucks-to-be-you-now-lets-go, so Reid waited for their unit chief to turn and exit the room before he groaned and buried his face in the blankets. If there was another painting, that meant that they would have to go look at it, and it would be outside, in the cold. And Reid would be cold. 

       “Come on Reid.” JJ patted the blanket cocoon in the rough approximation of where his head probably was, “It’s time to put that sniffer of yours to work.”

       By the time Reid had gathered the energy to raise himself up and discard enough blankets to send a baleful glare her direction, she had already left the room. Luke smiled, annoyingly awake and not reasonably put off at the prospect of going outside in the cold again, and Reid followed him out the door. 

       It was January. They were in Maine. A murderer was on the loose. It was cold, and even though Reid just wanted to sleep, he had a job to do. 


	8. Chapter 8

     Reid had only been sitting down for half an hour- max- and he was already trying to resist the urge to gouge his eyeballs out with a letter opener. The paperwork was boring, for sure, but that wasn’t really the main problem here. The problem was that every few minutes, there would be an extremely high pitched, extremely loud noise of indeterminate origin that made Reid wince and resist the urge to curl up under his desk and die. It would last for about 3 seconds and then stop, only to return a few minutes later. By this point, Reid was unable to focus on his work in the few minutes of silence between each noise, as he was constantly on edge, bracing for the onslaught of shrill screeching.

     The noise sounded again, making Reid wince; if it didn’t stop soon, this was going to be a very,  _ very _ long day. But perhaps he could block it out; the only slightly brain damaged genius rummaged around in his desk drawer, accidentally stabbing his fingers on thumb tacks in his search for ear plugs, headphones, cotton balls- anything to stick in his ears to keep the noise out. While any noise-blocking devices were nowhere to be found, Reid did discover three sharpies, a pack and a half of cinnamon gum, several suspiciously unlabeled teeth, and one (1) LEGO Gandalf minifigure. Nevermind that he hadn’t seen half of that stuff in his life while he was sure he had seen a pair of ear plugs just the other day. 

     So with the frustration levels of someone ready to take a sledgehammer to his head if it meant peace and quiet, Reid resolved to discover and eliminate the source of the infernal noise. 

~~~

     If there was anything Prentiss hated more than formal dinners with foreign ambassadors, it was paperwork. Well, no. That was a lie, she definitely hated formal dinners more and if she was truly being honest with herself she also vehemently hated spin classes. But paperwork was definitely in the top 10 things Emily Prentiss hated, so when Rossi knocked on her office door, she was more than happy to stop what she was doing. 

     “Rossi,” Prentiss beckoned the senior agent into her office, “come in.”

     “Would you happen to know why Reid has dismantled the hallway speaker system?” Rossi asked with a hint of a smile breaking through his otherwise professional front. 

     “He’s doing what now?” She was already halfway out of her chair, following Rossi out the door. Reid probably had a reasonable explanation for dismantling government property but even if he didn’t, she didn’t blame him- anything was better than the mind numbing time-suck that was paperwork.

     When they found Reid, he was tucked into the corner of the bullpen, surrounded by dismantled electronic guts that, due to the gaping hole in the wall where the speaker used to be, Prentiss was able to identify as the remnants of the intercom system. The half-dragon in question was kneeling next to the largest chunk of electronics that vaguely resembled an inverted cone covered in saran wrap, peeling off plastic parts with a pair of pliers. 

     “Reid.” Prentiss stopped just shy of the ring of electronics, not wanting to step on anything. Reid made a small noise of recognition, glancing up briefly from what he was doing with eyebrows raised in a silent acknowledgement that his name was said.  “What is all this?” she asked, gesturing to the dismantled parts spread out like the spoils of war from a disemboweled robot.

     “Mm.” Reid stuck his tongue out slightly, twisting the pliers and popping the ring off the top of the top of the cone. “I’m. Taking. Apart. This. Speaker,” Each word was punctuated with a pause and a twist of the pliers, “and then I’m fixing it so that it stops whining.”

     Rossi and Prentiss shared a glance as Reid rummages around, searching through the piles of electronics until he found what he needed. “It was whining?” 

     With a practiced motion, he adjusted the thin clear sheet and the coil of copper wire. Something made a soft  _ click _ , and Reid’s body visibly relaxed. Brushing his hair away from his face, Reid bared his teeth in a triumphant grin. “Not anymore.” He rocked back so that he was fully seated on the ground, folding his arms across his knees, “I’ll put it back, I promise.”

     Prentiss blinked once. Twice. Three times. Finally, she sighed. “Clean up after yourself and make sure I don’t have to deal with the Director sending me strongly worded emails about our responsibility to take care of our equipment. I would mention that you still need to get all your paperwork done, but…” 

     “That probably won’t be necessary in this case.” Rossi picked up where Prentiss had trailed off. He surveyed the pile of gutted electronics, “Good work kid.”

~~~

Luke Alvez listened to the conversation unfolding behind him, careful not to turn around or draw attention to himself. Instead, he waited and collected the scraps of information that he could find, sorting and organizing until they formed a comprehensible idea. Between the speakers and the mentions of whining, the image cleared; Reid was sensitive to loud noises. 

     Rossi and Prentiss left the room, each returning to their respective offices. Reid hummed softly as he began reassembling the intercom system. Luke continued minding his own business, filling out forms and writing up reports, all the while turning this new information over in his mind. And like a flash of lightning, inspiration struck and the beginnings of an idea formed. Nothing solid, no concrete plan, but the hazy image of Roxy’s dog whistle and a forgotten manual on Morse code.

     Luke smiled to himself; this could be interesting. 

\-----------------------------

     There weren’t an overabundance of times when Luke stopped and questioned what he had done in his life to land him where he was. Of the handful that existed, some of them were pleasant; moments of joy and awe where he paused and wondered what he had done to deserve this much happiness. The rest of the instances were… less than pleasant, and his inner dialogue was something along the lines of “How did I get here and what do I have to do to never be in this situation ever again.” Unfortunately, this was one of those times.

     Over the past few days, they had been trying to track an unsub who was setting off small but destructive bombs all around an otherwise quiet small town in Oklahoma. Through the profile corroborated by witness interviews and the fact that there weren’t all that many people in town with the capability, know how, and motivation to manufacture and detonate explosives, they had identified the unsub fairly quickly. However, because of the unsub’s sporadic, unpredictable schedule of setting off the explosives, it was imperative that the unsub- Michael Dent, a local chemist with a penchant for passive aggressive conflict- was apprehended as quickly as possible. 

     The unsub, as usual, was not in the business of making the BAU’s job any easier, and lived on a 20 acre plot of land with at least 7 buildings large enough to contain a suitable bomb-building workshop. This meant that, in following the impeccable logic shown in every bad horror movie ever, the team split up. Rossi and JJ searched the main house, Walker and Prentiss searched the garage, and Luke and Reid searched adjacent barn-like buildings. Luke had made the mistake of not paying attention to what was (he now learned) the only exit to the building. As soon as he was thoroughly out of the line of sight of the door, which was sufficiently blocked by the maze-like crates of unidentified material, Luke heard a heavy thud and hurried to retrace his steps, only to find the exit closed, with the locking mechanism latching on the outside of the building. In between where Luke was semi-hiding and the door was none other than Micheal Dent, holding a half-finished and presumably not very stable bomb. Dent was looking around for the source of his intrusion, and Luke was not very well hidden behind a stack of crates.

     And that is how Luke found himself questioning his major life decisions and vowing to never, ever, in a million years, search a building by himself again. It was only a matter of time before Dent found him, and while Luke had his sidearm, there was no way he would risk shooting at someone carrying an unstable bomb in a wooden building full of straw and materials necessary for creating explosives. That was a death sentence if there ever was one. He could text the team, but they were too far away to do anything anytime soon, and he couldn’t call out to Reid without alerting Dent to his position, even if Reid heard him…  _ Wait a minute _ , Luke paused mid-thought and looked down at his shirt. Underneath his bulletproof vest and button-down shirt, he carried Roxy’s dog whistle on a chain around his neck. Holding the metal cylinder, warm from prolonged contact with his skin, it was like a circuit had been completed in his brain. Luke thought back to the other day at the office with Reid and the speaker, and his half-formed idea with the whistle. It might not work, of course, but it (probably) wouldn’t make the situation any worse than it already was. And right now, Luke was willing to take those odds. 

     Praying that Reid had as sensitive of hearing as Luke suspected, he raised the whistle to his lips and blew three short bursts, three long notes, then three more short bursts in the universal SOS signal. With no way of knowing if Reid had heard him, Luke waited, crouched behind a stack of crates, trying desperately to avoid Dent’s gaze while he formulated a plan. 

     “Who’s there?” the bomber growled, holding up an actual honest-to-goodness oil lamp in one hand, a bomb in the other. “I know someone’s in here. Show yourself before I blow the place to bits.”

     Luke cursed silently- for as much as bombers were generally cowards, Dent profiled as having nothing left to live for except his grudge match with the town. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibilities for him to make good on his threats and send both of them down in flames. But if Luke could get him to talk, he might just be able to maneuver himself into a more favorable position that didn’t include getting blown up. 

     “Come out!” Dent repeated his demands, and Luke came to the conclusion that if he was going to do anything, it would have to be then. 

     “Okay, okay. I’m coming out.” Luke put his hands out to show that he was unarmed, while still staying within range to quickly draw his gun. He stood up slowly, trying not to startle Dent. “You found me.”

     Dent nodded in satisfaction, his bomb still held aloft. “That I did. But I can’t have you interfering with my work, so I’m afraid you’ll have to die here.” And with that ominous declaration, Luke only had a moment to curse any and all decisions that he had made before there was a smash of broken glass and a sudden increase of light as the oil lamp was flung against the floor and the now oil soaked wood caught on fire. Dent smashed through the door, and ran off, but Luke was trapped, the stacks of crates all around him quickly joining the fire and effectively boxing him in a maze of fire. He could only watch in horror as the flames crept closer and closer to the workbench on explosive materials. 

     Doing his best to knock the flaming crates out of his way without burning himself, Luke caught a glimpse through the haze of smoke and fire,  something hurtling from outside his frame of view to slam into the escaping Dent. Before he could get a closer look, the fire flared and his view was obscured once more. Coughing violently due to a lungful of smoke, Luke was doubled over, trying not to breathe in any more of the surely toxic fumes, when he suddenly felt an arm wrap around his waist. He looked over. With an arm slung under Luke's shoulders, Reid was pulling him up and out of the building. 

     The half-dragon had his back braced against the flames, and with his bulletproof vest gone his button up shirt was more singed than fabric. Catching his feet on the broken floor, Luke stumbled once, twice and Reid half dragged him out the door, both of them collapsing in the lee of the hill as the barn exploded above them. Luke watched the falling, flaming debris, absently hoping it wouldn’t land on them, but he was unable to summon the energy to do much more than lie there and fight to keep his eyes open. 

     It was a losing battle, of course, and the next thing he knew Luke woke up in the hospital, feeling like someone roasted him on a spit and almost gagging at the smell of burned skin and hair mixed with hospital antiseptic. He swallowed hard, attempting to push himself up into a more upright position. His involuntary grunt of pain elicited a rustling of fabric from somewhere on his left, and he was soon joined by Reid and Prentiss. “Wha-” Luke licked his lips, every inch of his face feeling dry and raw, “What happened? What happened to Dent?”

     Prentiss leaned in, voice professional, but her forehead nevertheless scrunched up in concern, “We got him. He’s in custody.”

     Reid’s lips twitched in a half smile, “I got your message just in time.”

     Luke wheezed, his short laugh making his lungs feel like they were rubbed raw with sandpaper, but returned his friend’s smile. “I knew you would.”


	9. Chapter 9

“So JFK was assassinated by the illuminati?” JJ asked, incredulous and more than a little suspicious. 

Garcia smiled, manipulating the screen in front of her as JJ read over her shoulder. “Don’t you know it, lovelies.” The team’s current unsub was turning out to be more than a little paranoid, and Garcia’s magical history search of wonder was pulling up quite a few conspiracy theory chat rooms.

“It’s ironic that a group first established to combat superstition and the abuses of state power would eventually become one of the most popular subjects of conspiracy theories and theoretical world domination.” Reid offered from where he was holed up in the corner, flipping through the unsub’s chicken-scratch-filled notebooks.

The technical analyst nodded, continuing to navigate the dozens of pages looking for useful information. When she opened a new link to a questionable, poorly formatted website with a back background and red lettering reading “THE DANGERS OF CHEMTRAILS”, she cringed. “This hurts my soul.”

“This hurts my eyes.” JJ mirrored her expression, “Do people really believe this sort of thing?”

“Oh, hun.” Garcia spun around in her chair to send JJ a pitying look. “These aren’t even the really crazy ones.” 

“Do I want to know?”

Garcia cackled, “Most definitely not, but I’m going to tell you anyways. Paul McCartney died in 1966 and was replaced by a lookalike, Hitler survived World War 2 and lived out the rest of his life on the moon, 9/11 was actually a controlled demolition, HIV was invented by the CIA, political leaders from around the world are secretly lizard people, and….” she trailed off.

Reid looked up to find Garcia staring at him, her expression a mix of shock, amusement, and an unnamed look that he had come to associate with her having an idea that inevitably turned out poorly for him. “Oh no.”

“Oh no, what?” JJ frowned, confused. 

Reid sighed, “Garcia is referencing a conspiracy theory that claims that international political and cultural figureheads are humanoid lizards in disguise and are secretly plotting to rule the world. She then made the connection that because I have reptilian traits and work for the government, there might be some validity to the claims.”

“Well,” the technical analyst asked, “is there?”

“No. You are not the first person to ask, and as amusing as you might find the idea to be, I have never met any lizard or dragon people outside of my family.”

“But there could be?”

Reid stood up and collected the notebooks he had been reading, “I need to go talk to Prentiss about these notebooks.” 

As the half-dragon walked out of the room, Garcia turned to JJ. “He’s deflecting.”

JJ smiled back at her the same way one might smile at a child claiming that they had found a portal to the fairy realm, “Sure. Now, have you found anything about the Unsub?”

 


End file.
